A Funny Kind of Thing
by Clawed Galaxy Dragon
Summary: A slight scraping sound was all that was heard as a metallic appendage dug itself farther into a tree branch. Glinting red eyes narrowed at a dirty hobo a few feet away as he rolled over on his bench at the noise before returning to snoring. The Irken pressed himself farther back against the rough bark of the tree trunk- stranded again. And it wasn't the bee's fault this time.
1. A Dirty Hobo of Smell

A slight scraping sound was all that was heard as a metallic appendage dug itself farther into a tree branch. Glinting red eyes narrowed at a dirty hobo a few feet away as he rolled over on his bench at the noise, and smacked his lips loudly in his sleep before returning to snoring. The stranded Irken pressed himself farther back against the rough bark of the tree trunk, and held as still and silent as possible while he thought. The hobo mumbled incoherently as Zim cast his gaze back through the trees to where his ship lay concealed miles away. The left engine had been acting up the last time he had taken his voot runner out, and despite his apathetic computer's warning- "Zim, you know your ship has been having problems….you're going to ignore me and go retrieve Gir anyway, aren't you? Well…. whatever, I guess. He would have come back to the base eventually, you know…."- the stubborn invader had fired up his ship, disregarded both the computer and the warning lights on the runner's control board, and lifted off into the still night air.

Not surprisingly, Zim came to quickly regret this decision; before he had traveled even halfway to the horrible rave club his robot frequented with the oddly moving humans- did they have medical problems? Is that why they jerked their bodies around so strangely in the presence of those oddly timed, computer-generated sounds? - a sputtering sound from outside caught his attention. An impending sense of doom washed over him as the ship dipped to one side and began rapidly descending.

As Zim's face pressed painfully into the windshield a mechanized voice informed him "Left engine failing. Crash imminent in 26.8 seconds. Have a nice day." The alien panicked and his antennae pressed themselves flat against his head, images of fire and dirt and death bees flitting through his memory.

Collecting himself after a couple tense moments of nothing happening except slow falling, Zim yelled frantically "Ship! Divert any extra fuel to the failing engine to make up for the power loss! If this crash is soft, I won't have as many repairs to deal with later." A louder sputter was his answer as the ship continued to descend, but more slowly. Remembering the capture of his vehicle (and as a result, himself) the last time he had carelessly left it in the middle of an open park, Zim angled the ship towards the closest opening within a thick stand of leafy trees. Twigs snapped and branches broke as the ship erratically touched down, and a muffled "Boom!" like thunder resounded as the runner finally gave out a few feet from the ground and thumped down.

The windshield opened with a hiss of air.

"Arrgrrh! You stupid, useless pile of junk!" Zim ranted as he exited the cockpit and hopped to the forest floor, adding more swears in various languages to the stream of foulness already rolling off his snake-like tongue. Calming down after a particularly nasty swear in Vortian, the Irken trudged to a tree and activated a spider leg, boots making soft crunching noises as they were brought down on innocent leaves scattered across the ground. The earthy smell of the soil and the clean, sharp scent of the growing plants wreathed around him, and he unconsciously inhaled deeply. The nature on Earth…..It was _nice_. It didn't smell revolting like that awful bus he'd ridden for all of 30 seconds while lost in the city, or the human pig-smellies he passed in the hallways at skool. "_Irk never had plants….We've converted the entire natural landscape of our planet into metal and buildings. I wonder what our forests would have been like._" Zim thought absently as he spotted a beetle trundling along over a piece of fallen and decomposing bark. Reaching a tree, he was almost sorry as the laser produced from the tip of the metal leg seared through nearby low-hanging branches and he tossed them over his downed runner in an effort to keep the ship not immediately obvious. Standing back and casting a cursory glance over the pile of branches and deeming it satisfactory, the Irken looked around him more intently. The moon's light pierced weakly through the canopy in shafts, creating patches of silver that mottled the floor. Irken eyes were naturally much stronger than that of a human's- but even so, turning a full circle and seeing nothing but unbroken lines of trees, a grudging decision was made.

So, grumbling to himself about defective robots and "no tacos for him a month," the alien prepared to scale the tallest tree in the area. Approaching the base of the mighty tree, all four mechanical legs shot out of his pack and embedded themselves into the wood and began to haul him up. The Irken crossed his arms and tapped his foot in the air impatiently as he probed for adequate footholds among the higher branches. The metal scrabbled and slipped against some of the smoother limbs, and with an irritated remark of "Filthy, slippery earth-beast-tree!" Zim removed his gloves and clamped them between his zipper-like teeth. Flexing his fingers and feeling the sensation of the cool night air filtering over and through them after so long of being confined within the standard-issue invader uniform gloves, he dug his claws into the trunk. Artificial limbs now aided by real ones, the ascent went much more smoothly, and both sets of claws ceased splintering into wood as they soon met with nothing but emptiness. Concentration on the climb broken, the invader took in the miles of landscape stretching around him. The clearing with his ship was most easily seen from his vantage point, and he memorized the details of the area. No clear characteristics of a crash were noticeable- good. Flicking his gaze farther out, he enjoyed the canvas of stars and the glowing quarter-moon until it was rudely broken by the harsh lights of the city. The dimmer portion was likely the neighborhood his base was situated in, and his squeedlyspooch lurched momentarily as he imagined the base empty and defenseless except for an infiltrating Dib, taking pictures of all his….his….his _stuff_.

Growling quietly, Zim extended his communicator; trying to contact Gir again couldn't hurt.

"Gir?" He spoke into the receiver, antennae pricked, listening for a response. "Gir, respond immediately. Your master commands it!" A click was heard after a few seconds of silence, and Zim's hopes lifted for an instant- only to be dashed against the ground far below when he heard the familiar booms and noises of the rave filtering through the static. Snarling, Zim cast a final glance over the darkened world as the communicator folded back into his Pak. Forgoing using his spider legs at all, the Irken removed his boots as well and stuffed his gloves inside them, and then into his Pak. Channeling his anger through the exertion of getting down, furrows were left in parts of the trunk where hopping down to the next branch was too far to be worth risking it, and so claws were used instead.

Planting his feet on the ground, the two claws on each foot kneaded the dirt below them comfortably. Looking up from the scores in the dirt, the Irken began to head towards home at an unhurried run. The exercise felt good when not fueled by the added adrenaline of the Dib-monkey chasing him with his foolish, stinky Earth-junk sleep cuffs. Padding quietly through the peaceful forest, with just the occasional frantic flapping of a startled bird and a lonely owl hoot to accompany him, Zim wondered if _destroying_ the planet was the right thing to do. "I suppose I could _just_ rule it….or maybe, have my army of human slaves destroy the very disgusting pig-dirt cities they themselves built! Oh, the delicious irony." he said to himself as he grinned and hopped over a fallen tree.

Not tall by young human standards, the Irken had regardless gained over a foot in height over the course of the few years he'd spent on the planet. Perhaps it was just his Pak's natural way of acclimating him to the surrounding indigenous population, or perhaps it had something to do with the lessened gravity on the Earth; either way, the small increase was not lost on Zim, who cleared another tree easily.

He might have grown up a little, he reminded himself, but he certainly hadn't filled out. His torso was still as thin and featureless as it had always been, and his arms and legs were also still of the same twiglike thinness. His attire hadn't changed much over the years either, but a taunt from Dib- "Hey ZIM! Don't you ever go shopping for new clothes? Huh? Do ya? I guess not. Do you not have STORES on your planet? Huh?"- had caused him to slightly alter his standard uniform. A simple black undershirt and changing of the red uniform top into more of a thin short trench coat-like overshirt, and his outfit was not much changed- but changed enough to scathingly reply to Dib "Happy now, Earth monkey? Zim has CHANGED OUTFITS! And is wearing pants! I'm NORMAL!" This had been received with a scoff and a "Whatever." by Dib, who had stalked away from his triumphantly grinning nemesis.

Running on autopilot and idly reflecting on his fashion victory over the Dib, Zim didn't notice the sudden change in scenery from the dense trees to the open field of a park. Thus he found himself in his current situation; clinging to a tree, scared to death of a sleeping hobo.

Glaring at the homeless dirt-human as he rolled over and scratched his belly with a fingerless-gloved hand, Zim removed himself from his state of fusion with the tree and hung down from the lowest branch. His feet hung irritatingly above the ground by a good foot- a height the Dib human would be able to reach easily. Snorting quietly in annoyance at the height difference- height in Irken society did mean status after all- Zim let himself drop to the ground, crouching with the landing to reduce the thud made by his weight. The hobo merely twitched at the sound and mumbled something about Bloaty's Pizzeria, and Zim stuck his tongue out at the bearded man childishly before creeping away back to the treeline over the cool, smooth grass.

Irken endurance was clearly superior to that of a human's as well- scaling the first building he came to at the edge of the woods to get his bearings, the alien noted how far he had come and how far he had yet to go, and didn't feel tired in the least. The Invader stepped to the edge of the building, feet making quiet clicking sounds as he hung his toes over the divide. Reaching a hand back and pulling out his gloves and boots again from his Pak, he slipped them on. Human buildings would be far less forgiving on his claws than the trees were, and his spider legs had the advantage with all the masonry cracks and footholds in the city anyhow. Observing the lack of people out at the late hour and easily traversable terrain, Zim decided stealth would be too time-consuming and instead quickly launched himself to the neighboring building's rooftop with his spider legs and from there to the next, and so on into the night.

* * *

At last clinging to the side of the building next to his own eerily glowing green and purple house, he hissed "Computer!"

"Whhhhaaaat?" a voice droned, sounding exasperated.

"Open the launch bay doors just a little so I can slip inside." Zim ordered, and waited. A couple seconds went by, and the computer finally gave a long winded sigh.

"Fiiiiine." It drawled, and the roof of the house split open a fraction of the way.

"_Thank_ _you_, computer." Zim grumbled once he was inside. A beeping was all that he got in the form of acknowledgement, and he glared up at the tangle of wires and tubes and pipes on the ceiling. He shrugged; better than nothing. Pulling in his spider legs and dropping to the floor fluidly, Zim proceeded into his living room and flumped down onto the stained pink couch. His feet actually reached the floor when he sat fully on it- but just barely. Grumping at the fact that his measly foot of growth was still not an awful lot, all things considered, he was just reaching for the remote when a blur of grey and blue assaulted his head.

"MASTAH! Computer said you exploded-ed! But, you's here! So you's NOT exploded-ed!" At the last exclamation, the manic robot yanked Zim's antennae painfully and hugged himself to the Irken's head.

"Computer?" Zim barked between Gir's giggles. "You KNEW Gir would react like this- why did you tell him-rrrgh!- I exploded?" Zim managed to pry Gir off his head in the middle of his question, but that didn't stop the defective SIR unit from proceeding to hug himself to Zim's arm, weighing it down instead.

"Well…I dunno." The computerized voice supplied unhelpfully in a flat, uninterested tone.

"Gir! Release Zim's arm this instant!" the Irken screamed at the pile of metal attached to his arm. The robot flashed red and dropped off obediently, but quickly returned to blue and latched itself on to Zim's leg.

In the midst of all the commotion, a black-clad figure slipped past on the ceiling and ducked silently down the trash chute.


	2. A Titanically Headed Dirt Child

"Aw man, this is great!" Dib whispered to himself in awe as he clicked his camera away at anything and everything the lower labs contained. Cyborg chickens encapsulated in large glass holding orbs, the main computer panel, the laser weasel room- all of it would land Dib on the front page of the papers for sure. "Zim won't stop me this time!" Dib said, and smiled deviously. "My camera can wirelessly send all the pictures I've taken to my home computer, where I've set that up to create dozens of backups. If he does catch me, I'll just let him take the camera and think he's won- but I'll know the truth!" Dib continued rambling to himself as he crept quietly through the dimly lit pinkish hallways. His boots had been intentionally padded to avoid loud clanging as he stole across the metal floor, and he gave off an occasional "Ooh!" or "Wow!" as he clicked more pictures of any technology he encountered.

Eventually the seemingly endless network of maze-like tunnels led him back to the main computer room. "I wonder…." the human trailed off as he eyed the very modern-looking usb jack off to the side of the large computer mainframe. Slipping out his laptop, he crouched as far up against the back of the panel as possible, and connected his laptop to Zim's systems. Expecting the blare of an alarm (although not really fearing capture, as escaping wouldn't be an incredible challenge if he simply took the ventilation shaft in the nearby "Earth Creature Fusion Room"), Dib hesitated a few moments. When nothing but the continuous humming of Irken equipment met his ears, Dib glanced at his laptop's dimly illuminated screen.

"PASSWORD?" the screen prompted, a blinking box indicating where it would be typed in.

"Uhhhh…." Dib muttered quietly as he pulled the computer closer to himself. "Maybe…."I hate Dib?"" A blinking error message of "LOGIN FAILED. INCORRECT PASSWORD." Popped up immediately, and again Dib braced for an alarm. When a warning failed to resound through the base, the human relaxed and resumed attempting password guesses.

"How about "I will rule the earth"?" No. "Well, could it be "humans are stinky"?" No dice yet again. Exasperated, Dib sat back on his haunches and glared at the screen. "If I was Zim, what would my password be…?" he wondered. As a last ditch effort, Dib keyed in "Dib has a big head", and prepared to disconnect his computer and pack it up.

"PASSWORD ACCEPTED. TRANSFERRING TO MAIN SCREEN." Blinking in amazement, Dib pushed his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose as the large computer screen in the room flickered to life. His irritation at the Irken's choice of password lasted only a second as lines of Irken text began running across the screen, and Dib frowned as he watched the unknown symbols scroll by.

"I can't read Irken! So close, and yet…!" Dib cursed, and looked back at his laptop which remained plugged in on the floor. Walking back to it, Dib typed in "translate all to English" and hoped the superior technology would be superior enough to understand his request.

"Processing." The sudden mechanical voice emanating from seemingly nowhere startled the infiltrating investigator, and he whipped around, searching for any sign of a trap. His scythe-like hair smacked him in the face as he did so, and he spat it out, annoyed. It had gotten longer, and matched his increase in height proportionally. His signature back trench coat had also "grown", lengthening almost down to his feet which were clad in aforementioned boots, which stretched taller than his old ones had. Returning his attention to the screen, Dib grinned as the Irken symbols slowly converted themselves into English letters. Dib rifled through Zim's files for a few moments, noting ones named things like "EVIL plans" and "Dib-stink information" and "Mission information". His hand hovered over the button which would transfer a large portion of the computer's contained information to his laptop when a muffled pneumatic "hissss" echoed through the halls.

"_Zim's elevator! But, I'm so close to getting all his files! All this information right at my fingertips, and he picks now of all times to finally show up!"_ he quietly panicked. Dib cursed his luck as he hurriedly unplugged his laptop and shut down the main computer, and turned toward the "Earth Creature Fusion Room" to escape.

"Going somewhere…..Dib?" The inquiry slid smoothly off Zim's tongue as red eyes locked with amber, and Dib frantically tried to think of another escape route he could use before the laser firing and explosions and screaming began. "I…got lost! I was actually just leaving, funny that you happened to show up, haha…!" Dib started lamely, buying time. Zim, who leaned against the doorframe, merely raised an antenna- the Irken equivalent of raising an eyebrow.

"Don't be stupid, Dib-worm." Zim's eyes narrowed dangerously, and he pushed himself away from the frame and took slow strides towards Dib. "I do hope you weren't thinking of using the shaft in my fusion room to leave. Because even _IF_ you had managed to get past my voracious bearfish, the bolted grate cover would have stopped you." Zim halted a few feet from Dib and clasped his hands behind his back, looking him up and down with an irritated expression. _"Is he…. sizing me up?" _Dib asked himself_." …Wait a minute….he's _jealous_!" _the human realized, and stood up straighter- he could make use of this finding, if only for entertainment at the expense of the height-complexed Irken.

"No, no. If I wanted to leave I would just simply _step over you_ and go." Dib countered, enjoying the eye twitch he got out of the alien. Maybe, if he was able to get Zim to circle around him enough, he could make a break for the elevator…

Dib's musings were quickly broken as Zim's spider legs shot out of his Pak and hoisted him several feet above Dib. "I would like to see you try, _Earth filth_." Zim hissed, and the appendages began to carry him around Dib in a wide circle, each step painstakingly slow.

"So, what were you doing, strolling around in my _amazing_ labs? Taking pictures and generally spying, I assume?" Zim questioned, peering at Dib intently. "The camera." He said after a moment, and held out a hand. "Give it to Zim. Now."

Dib watched the Irken carefully as he removed the camera from his pocket, and slowly extended it up towards Zim. It was snatched from his hand quicker than he could blink, and in the next instant it was a pile of sparking metal on the ground as Zim dusted his hands off and dropped to the ground. Seeming satisfied with this, he walked calmly past Dib and to his computer, idly flicking it on and typing in the offensive password, Dib grating his teeth as he did so.

"What, is that it? Am I free to go now, alien scum? Was that your big plan?" Dib taunted, watching Zim's antennae flatten against his skull as the Irken continued to click away at his keyboard and scroll through pages of Irken.

"Seeing as how you are now virtually harmless, yes, you are free to go. I've had a long, inconveniencing night and I don't care to get into one of our usual fights. You are free to go just this once, but I'll make sure my computer makes your great escape as _painful_ as possible on your way out. Now leave." Zim finished, holding up a fist and shaking it for emphasis but never once breaking eye contact with the screen.

"I thought the _great Irken invaders_ never got tired. You must not be on a real mission- or be a real invader- if you won't even _try_ to destroy _me_, your greatest enemy, when I'm clearly vulnerable." Dib tossed over his shoulder as he turned to leave.

The paranormal investigator got more of a reaction than he anticipated from this comment. Zim whipped around, eyes burning with more anger than Dib had seen in them in a long time….more angry even than when Dib had thrown the muffin at his head. A split second was all it took for Dib to find out he should begin running for his life, and he took off scrambling towards the elevator, the footfalls of Zim's boots dangerously close behind. A moment later and Dib was seeing stars as he was shoved roughly against the metal wall, suspended in the air by a fist clenched in the fabric of his shirt. Cracking open a squeezed-shut eye, he saw Zim a mere foot away from his face. Dib yelped and looked down, seeing his dangling legs and Zim's spider legs planted on the ground below him. His attention was jerked back to Zim when the alien snarled at him angrily and whispered "I _AM_ an invader. I've had decades of training on Devastis, whereas you've only been alive for barely a single decade, you dirt-child. I could kill you right now, if I so chose." This threat was accompanied by the clang of a metal leg stabbing into the wall mere inches away from Dib's head. "Whether my mission is real or not does not concern you- you should fear me regardless." The alien hissed. After a few more seconds of Dib enduring a hostile glare, Zim leaned away a little and appeared to think. "I was going to simply let you go…" he began, " but it appears I've summoned the energy to do more than that with you- in fact, I'm even going to _bring_ you home. Because I'm so nice and all." Zim ground out, and with that Dib was hauled through the air by the back of his coat as Zim walked down an adjacent tunnel leading away from the elevator.

"Computer, ready the air cannon." The Irken called out flatly, and a lazy "Fiiiiiine." was his answer after a few moments. Being toted through the air by Zim on his spider legs, who apparently was unbothered by his weight, Dib barely managed to peep out "Air…_cannon_..!" Any other complaints died off on his tongue as he and his captor reached the room in question, where a large opening in the wall had a sign pointing to it that read "Dispose of filthies here."

"I'm not a filthy!" Dib protested as Zim punched in a number on the keypad next to the hole, and a sucking noise began to fill the room. Setting the coordinates for the cannon, Zim seemed to remember something and glanced down at Dib, who was beginning to try and struggle out of the alien's iron grip.

"Oh, and one more thing before you go, Dib-monkey. My computer intercepted all those wireless transmissions from that stupid camera- no photos for you. Also, I suggest you grab on to that ridiculous wire you have strung through your backyard- you don't want to be a bloody smear on the grass, after all. Tata, Dib." With these parting words, Zim chucked Dib into the hole, and Dib heard Zim's satisfied cackle as he was spat out of a hole under one of the front lawn gnomes. The force of the air hit Dib so hard he forgot to be disappointed about his loss of evidence, as he was literally shot across the suburb.

Flying through the cool air at breakneck speeds, Dib let out a scream as he watched the neighborhood zoom by below him. The trip through the night sky was long enough for Dib to get his bearings just in time to recognize his house- which he was, conveniently, hurtling down towards. Zim's trajectory couldn't have been more spot on, however, as Dib flailed around in the dark for the life-saving wire. Wincing as his fall was brought to a stop by a hand grabbing the line just in time, Dib let out a shaky breath as he dropped to the ground.

His legs gave way immediately, and Dib gasped for breath as he lay on the grass of his back lawn. Slowly, his senses started to re-orient themselves. "He…he shot me out of a cannon. He _shot me out of a cannon_!" Dib yelled out into the quiet, empty night air.

"Shut up!" was heard from an upper window, as his little sister threw a pizza box down at him. The corner of the box collided squarely with Dib's forehead, and he saw stars for the second time that night as his glasses flew off his face.

After feeling around in the dark for his glasses (and finding them after nearly crushing them), Dib sighed heavily. Standing up and swaying, he rubbed the new bump on his head. "Ughh…." he groaned as he tottered unsteadily into the house. Well, today had backfired quite magnificently, hadn't it?


	3. Spanish Inquisition

Thank you guys for the reviews :D I hope this story grows in popularity too like my other one has. Expect another chapter in...oh, ballpark, maybe a day and a half or so. Enjoy :)

* * *

Zim stood staring at the opening where he had tossed Dib, wondering if the human would be smart enough to actually catch the wire that would save him from a decidedly painful death. The trajectory of his incredible equipment was so perfectly incredible that the human would have gotten caught on the wire regardless, but Zim imagined a few broken limbs would make his enemy all the more eager for revenge against him.

His enemy.

Was Dib even his enemy anymore? The last time they'd had a truly angry fight was when Dib had broken his just-fixed telescope in another "save the world" attempt, and Zim had been furious enough to actually graze him with a blast from a laser gun. His lawn gnomes had dragged Dib away kicking and screaming, but the Invader felt no remorse; the wound was neither fatal nor deep, and would heal in a matter of days. He did, however, raid Dib's telescope the following night and steal a few parts in exchange for the damage caused to his. This form of mutual revenge had gone unspoken between them, but both understood the meaning of give and take. So, were they enemies? Even their daily tradeoff of "grotesque space monster" and "smelly filth pig" insults were more of a ritual than anything else.

So no, they weren't the bitter enemies they had once been- but still, the line was occasionally crossed. Zim settled against the seat of his one-person computer pod underground and crossed his arms, thinking of what the human smellmonkey had said. "Not a real Invader….preposterous. _I_ trained on Devastis. _I_ passed the control brain's test. _I_ was initiated into the ranks of the elite. No one can rightfully tell the great and powerful Zim he is not an Invader!" Zim yelled to the confines of the small space. After the initial moment of gusto was gone and the echo of his own voice had faded, his antennae drooped. "But my mission….the filth-pig was right about that. My Tallests have blocked any incoming transmissions from me for over an Earth-year now. Perhaps they felt that this spinning ball of smelly humans was an even better exile for me than the one on Foodcourtia….." Zim trailed off thoughtfully. The acceptance of his fake mission had come surprisingly easily- he had known the truth deep down all along, he suspected.

Idly pinching the material of his glove and watching it fall back into place, the Irken thought. "What do I do now? I could continue trying to take over the Earth anyway…life would certainly be easier without the need to hide, and having a slave army would be nice." A smile spread dreamily across the alien's countenance. "Yes…millions of filthy slaves….but, without the assistance of the Armada's extermination beams, I couldn't maintain control. Rrgh. This endless thinking bothers me. Pak, put me into recharge mode until 6:30 in the morning." The Irken ordered. Sleep was not essential, but he had no desire to pass the next few hours doing nothing but thinking- he would drive himself mad quickly enough with that course of action. The last sound heard for the night was a quiet mechanical voice saying "Recharge mode activated. Bodily processes under stasis. Set to reactivate at 6:50." and the low and even breathing of an unconscious Irken.

* * *

"6:50 alarm awakening activated."

The mechanical voice brought the Irken out of his self-induced stasis, and he stretched his limbs out comfortably. Noting the time, he sighed as he stepped out of the room through the small circular door which had been installed after he'd become too tall to fit comfortably through the regular vacuum tube entrance. Taking the trash can elevator up to the house level, he stepped out of it and took the wig and contacts the computer extended down to him and proceeded towards the front door. Catching sight of Gir sitting in the corner staring at the wall, he was about to ask but decided against it; unexpected things happened when he asked Gir anything. Shaking his head, he popped the annoying contacts in and placed the wig on his head before opening the door. Before he stepped out though, he remembered one thing:

"Thank you, Gir, for actually fixing the door a few days ago. Even if you did use… what is this… I'll assume its peanut butter." Gir swiveled his head towards his master and grinned expansively and nodded, revealing his mouth to be all jammed up with the peanut butter. _"Well, that explains the silence…"_ Zim thought as he left the house. It was still mostly dark out, but a brave bird dared to let out a quick warble here and there. It was always cool in the mornings, and this morning was foggy as well. Well, as foggy as the suburbs could get anyway.

Walking down the streets towards the skool, Zim wondered idly if Dib would be angry with him. "Stupid pig dookie. _I_ should be angry with _him_! _He_ started it!" Zim yelled into the unresponsive morning air. Stomping the rest of the way to skool, he darted up the steps just as the bell rang. The clanging made him want to press the wig down over his antennae more firmly, but he ignored the instinct and instead walked down the rows of tan lockers towards the classrooms. People pressed in on him from every side, and Zim honestly couldn't decide whether they smelled better than they did in gradeskool, or worse.

"Ow!" Zim let out as he was roughly shoved against a locker. A grinning lean face leered back at him- Torque Smacky. One of the few muscleheads that used to just ignore Zim, the recent turnaround in tolerance the past few years was likely attributed to his rising popularity on the weightlifting team. Zim glared at him and snarled, while Torque just yawned theatrically. Zim cared not for popularity, but Torque going out of his way just to bother him filled the Irken with rage- if he wanted to he could throw Smacky through a wall, but he had to hold himself back. Every time he was pushed, or purposely hit, or tripped, it took all his self control to stop himself from simply tackling the offender and beating the living shit out of him.

Sucking in a calming breath, Zim ground out "Let me go, _Smacky_. Otherwise we'll both be late to class."

Torque's expression grew harder as his hand remained on Zim's thin shoulder, holding him in place while he acted like he was idly checking the time. "We've got a few minutes." He said, putting more pressure on Zim and causing the locker metal to press painfully into his shoulder blade.

"But can't you go do something more worthwhile? I think your other testosterone ape friends are looking for you." Zim tried, holding back the anger.

Torque seemed to lazily consider it a moment, and finally said "Fine. But don't expect to get away with this" here he slugged Zim in the arm hard enough to bruise "the next time you call me "Smacky"."

"Filthy dirt human!" Zim yelled once Torque was out of hearing range. That had been close- any longer and he swore he would have stabbed Torque right through his big ugly forehead. Still simmering, Zim wrenched open his locker and pulled out the notebooks for his next few classes. High skool had more classes than elementary did, and Zim had finally caved and began carrying a few notebooks around. He rarely wrote notes in them since his Pak saved any information learned in class, but he would humor the teachers on occasion and jot down a sentence here or there.

Slipping into class just before the late bell sounded, Zim slid into his seat towards the back of the room. The teacher started up the boring lecture on some human moron named Newton, and Zim propped his chin up in his hand. Flicking on autopilot, as he usually did, he let his mind wander as his Pak retained anything remotely useful to him. And so the day passed as such, until the bell rang for lunch.

* * *

"Dib, I swear to god, if you sit down next to me and say "Just look at him, Gaz" I'm going to skip rope with your small intestine." Dib shrank away from his sister who seemed to be in a particularly unforgiving mood today. Casting his gaze across the cafeteria, over the heads of the many idiot teenagers, he saw Zim doing what he had always done- poking at his food and making disgusted faces.

"That space fungus is planning something…I just know it, Gaz…" Dib couldn't help saying automatically. Biting his tongue for the slip, he gulped as Gaz's dark waves of hate washed over him. He felt his heart shrivel a little as Gaz said quietly "Why don't you just go over there and _ask him_, Dib? Maybe he'll brag to you about it. Because either you go over there on your _own_, or I _send_ you over there in _pieces_."

Dib frowned, but reluctantly got up. Skirting the edge of the cafeteria, he eventually made it to Zim's solitary table. The Irken looked up as he sat down, and immediately a death glare was leveled at him.

"What do you want, Dib piss?"

Dib piss? Dib blinked at the unexpected insult. Zim was probably beginning to pick up on rude human terminology- took him long enough.

"I came to ask you what your next evil plan was." Dib stated, cutting straight to the chase. So, he was unsurprised when Zim said "Eh?" and hung his serpentine tongue out the side of his mouth in confusion.

He recovered quickly enough however, and screamed "Tell YOU? Why in the world would the amazing ZIM tell a filthy dirt beast like you what my next plan was?" Even in hi-skool the outbursts from either Zim or Dib were eventually learned to be ignored, so only a few angry looks were shot their way.

"I don't know. But I had to come over here or my sister would have sent me over here piece by piece, if you're looking for another reason besides "I want to stop you"."

Zim chewed on Dib's words for a moment, but seemed to deflate when something occurred to him. Pushing his food to the edge of the table and abandoning any attempt to even pretend he was eating it, Zim rested his head on his interlaced fingers and sighed.

"I have no plan this time, Dib- I don't need to conquer this stupid planet anymore. I believe now that I was sent here simply as another form of exile. HOWEVER!" Zim pointed at Dib dramatically "That doesn't mean I won't keep trying every _now and then_. Have to keep busy somehow."

Dib sat and took the knowledge in. Well, he hadn't totally won, but at least now saving the world wasn't a top priority all the time- he could just foil Zim's plans whenever he had the spare time.

Time seemed to stretch on endlessly as they sat there, Zim picking at the hem of his glove and Dib studying a stain on the table.

"So…what does that thing do?" Dib finally asked, gesturing to the thing Zim always kept on his back.

Zim looked back over his shoulder at it for a moment, and shrugged. "That's my Pak. Keeps me alive."

"It…keeps you alive? Seriously? Like, how? Were you born with it? Can you take it off at all? How is it connected to you? And…doesn't it hurt to lean against a wall with a metal thing on your back?" Dib asked in a rush. He'd always wanted to know more about the Irken, and if he was to be banished to his worst enemy's table for the day, the least he could do was try and find some things out.

His worst enemy.

Really? Still? I mean, the last time Zim had seemed really pissed at him was when he'd broken that stupid telescope of his. And Zim had shot him with a god damn laser. _Shot_ him! It hadn't been bad though- a white scar was all that remained from the wound anyway. And then of course Zim had robbed his telescope out of spite…but other than that, all they had seemed to do for the last few years was bicker and tussle with each other now and then more than really try and kill each other.

Dib watched Zim expectantly, feeling a little more hopeful in getting a real answer when the Irken didn't look immediately angered or sarcastic.

"Your huge head is filled with too many questions, worm. It's like my brain- sort of. Without it all my organs and my real brain would shut down after ten minutes. It houses memory, Zim's _amazing_ personality, useful little tools, and my other limbs. We aren't born _with_ them, but we are attached to them one once our tubes are opened. Cables go into my spine to hold it in place" Zim grinned as Dib squirmed and made an "ew" face "and leaning against things isn't so bad. It doesn't protrude _that_ much."

Dib sat silently for a second, turning everything over in his head. But a more pressing question kept coming back to him.

"Why are you telling me all this?"

Zim regarded Dib a moment, studying him for something. The typical yells and noises of the skool cafeteria echoed around them, but neither one paid any attention as they both waited for one of them to break. Soon, it came:

"Because, Dib. It doesn't matter now. I'm cut off from my people, and it's not like you could get to them anyway."

Dib felt a flash of sympathy for the ostracized Irken, but tried to smother it- Zim might not be his hated nemesis anymore, but that didn't move him to the friend department by any means. "Well... then, what are your antennae for?" Dib tried. He wondered how long the alien would put up with his interrogation.

"Expression. Hearing. Gender differentiation." Zim listed, seeming bored as he dragged a gloved finger across the surface of the table.

"Oh. Expression. Is that why they're always pinned back around me? Are you irritated?" Dib asked.

"They're pinned back right now, Dib. Your very presence irritates Zim." Zim supplied, shooting Dib an annoyed look.

"Heh. Awesome. I annoy you without even trying. What about…hm…hey, I know. How many toes do you have?"

Zim gave Dib a queer look. "Why do you care, Dib monkey?"

Dib floundered a bit. He _personally_ didn't care if Zim had three toes, or nine, or eighteen, but just having the knowledge about an alien race would be neat. "Well…you only have three fingers. So, I can only assume your feet are different from ours too."

Zim seemed to debate even bothering to grace Dib with an answer."….Four. Total." He said after a while, clearly irritated at having been asked such an asinine question.

"So, like, two on each foot?"

"No, Dib. I've actually got three on one foot, and only one on the other." Zim said sarcastically. "Of course two each, you idiot."

Dib frowned at the name, but brushed it off. "And do you have…like…nails or anything?"

Zim rolled his eyes and tugged off a glove, setting his exposed claws onto the surface of the table with a quiet "click". Dibs eyes seemed to light up, and Zim couldn't help but be reminded of himself when he worked with the Vortians as a weapons designer. He would get that same burning curiosity when a formula he tried _almost_ worked, or a ray gun he built _almost_ fired. But then, that energy blob…the one thing he should have never gotten right…

Coming back to himself, he felt his arm being tugged on. Focusing on the human at the end of it, he watched as Dib gave off a slight "Wow!" as he tapped the tips of Zim's claws to see how sharp they were and twisted the hand and fingers this way and that. Zim tolerated it a few moments longer, before he intervened.

"Dib. Release Zim's hand. I don't care how fascinating an alien species is to you." Zim commanded.

"Oh, s-sorry. Those are sharp." Dib apologized, but didn't seem the slightest bit sorry as he watched Zim slip his glove back on.

"Yes. Yes they are. You're lucky I always wear my gloves, or else you'd be sporting some extra scars by now." Zim responded flatly, flexing his fingers to make the glove fit more snugly.

Zim winced in anticipation as Dib opened his mouth to form another "wh" sound; more questions. The bell rang though, rescuing Zim from Dib's version of the Spanish inquisition. Not missing the human's disappointed look, as Zim grabbed his books and food tray and walked to the trashcan he tossed over his shoulder "If your sister threatens you again tomorrow, my table usually has at least _one_ spot open. _Maybe_. It gets awfully full sometimes."

Zim didn't miss the quiet "Yes!" from Dib as the human scuttled off, no doubt to make a log entry about all he'd learned. Zim fought the smile that came to his lips- he did, after all, hate that human's guts. Right?

* * *

If you guys ever want any updates on story progress, check my author page- I post updates on progress there _literally_ just about every day. Also, this won't be a zadr, but maybe I'll do one of those in the far future. And I'll be honest, I have no idea where the plot is going- this story was born by me just opening up word and beginning to type. But, I'll try to think of something. Reviews make me happy and inspire me to write more and stay up until 3:35 am like I am now for you guys, so please do just drop an "I like this" or whatever in the review box; it really makes my day :)


	4. Tentative Tolerance

Zim shuffled his feet impatiently under his desk second period the next day. The bell was literally a minute from ringing, but Zim had a sneaking suspicion that the time field around every clock in the school was slower than the rest of the universe. Watching the second hand tick once every five seconds, it seemed, Zim wondered why he cared that the class was taking agonizingly long to be over. All he had to look forward to was the hideous skool sewage food and Dib bugging him, after all.

Maybe it _was_ Dib bugging him that he was looking forwards to. _"But only as a break in the monotony that is this hellish skool."_ Zim reminded himself, thinking back on the previous day's conversation. Dib's natural curiosity had clearly bubbled out of him, and his assault by questioning had surprised Zim. If the boy had truly been banished from his usual table by his sister, why was he so quick to make conversation with his once hated rival? Any other human in his presence usually did one of two things; they clammed up and avoided eye contact, or they filled in the silences with insults.

The bell rang amidst his musings, and Zim began placing his papers inside his notebooks and picking them up, preparing to leave the class.

"Hello, Zim. How are you today?" the voice of his economics teacher in front of him made Zim jerk his head up from organizing his little pile of notebooks. "You seemed rather...preoccupied during the lesson. Not just blatantly ignorant, like you usually are. And even though I have no problem with your grade in here, I must ask: is something on your mind?" The concern in the teacher's voice seemed legitimate enough, and Zim collected the rest of his papers and stuffed them in his notebook before answering.

"No, not at all. Just...eh...wondering what was for lunch! Zim is simply famished this day." Zim improvised, edging around the teacher towards the door.

"Hm. If you say so, Zim. That's just odd, though, because you usually don't eat any of the lunches you get..." The teacher observed, stroking his chin stubble and examining Zim critically. Squirming uncomfortably, Zim hedged around the question by bidding the prying teacher a prompt goodbye, and ducking out the door of the classroom and joining the stream of students stampeding past. When he glanced over his shoulder, however, the teacher stood in the doorway looking after him with an enigmatic expression. Zim shuddered- he didn't like that look, whatever it was.

Pushing open the green peeling doors of the lunchroom, Zim made an immediate beeline for the lunch line- he wouldn't eat the food of course, but was obligated to at least buy it now that he had claimed he was hungry. If his teacher knew he didn't normally eat his lunches, what else did he know? What else could he find out?

Leaving the line with his daily helping of garbage and sitting down at his table automatically, he hardly noticed Dib seated there first. Brushing away suspicions about his teacher, he gave the slightest inclination of his head to the Dib creature as he opened his utensil set and began to poke at his food, as per usual.

"Somebody seems occupied today. Something eating at you, space boy?" Dib asked, immediately picking up on Zim's detached mood.

"Hm? Oh, nothing, Earth-stink-meat. Just my filthy economics teacher- he asked me the same thing earlier, and said he knew I didn't normally eat the skool lunches. Why would he know such a thing about Zim unless he had been purposely watching?" Zim spilled out, looking around the perimeter of the cafeteria for any signs of the man.

"Uh...I don't know, Zim. Just avoid him, I guess. You won't have him anymore when we change classes in a few months anyway." Dib offered, opening his mouth again a few times to say more and closing it when Zim's gaze passed him and continued to sweep over the cafeteria. "So...what's Irk like?" Dib queried innocently after Zim stopped scanning the lunchroom and finally met his eager gaze.

"Irk...Irk was nothing but metal. Training facilities and snack bars. So many snacks. It..."

* * *

And so the lunch period flew by, Dib soaking in every word Zim said, hanging on to the stream of information like a starving dog with a bone. There was just so much he didn't know about the Irken race- their customs, their laws, their society, their government...everything. Dib was disappointed when his alien lesson of the day ended with the clanging of the bell, but Zim again disguised his invitation for company the same way he had the day before. Nodding happily at the not-really-an-invitation invitation, Dib surprised himself by actually saying "Bye Zim, see you tomorrow."

Both beings paused at Dib's casual farewell, and Zim awkwardly managed a "Yes...goodbye for now, huma-...Dib." before he marched out of the cafeteria. Dib shook his head at the way the alien still acted; as though he owned the world, and yet had no idea how to hold a friendly conversation. Grabbing his own backpack, he headed off to his class through the doors on the opposite side of the lunchroom. The hallways were mostly empty, and Dib cringed as he saw Torque chatting with his group of jersey-wearing friends. Maybe if he ducked down and walked right next to this guy, he could avoid-

"Hey, Membrane!"

Dammit.

"Lookin' good today. How's about I fix that?" Torque threatened, closing Dib against a locker while his friends looked on in disgusting anticipation from behind him.

Dib panicked a little but kept his voice calm as he answered "Aw, heh, you don't mean it. I _always_ look like crap, you know that." Maybe he could talk his way out of this...

"No, no- you totally did something new with yourself today. What do you think it is, guys?" Torque asked his posse, waiting for any answers but receiving only silence. "Oh man, you guys are totally right!" he said as if they really had spoken, and smacked his forehead. "He added a nice bruise to his face!"

Dib registered what this meant just as Torque drew back his fist, and he barely had the time to turn his head enough to only receive a glancing blow across his cheekbone instead of a full-on face smasher. Still, it hurt. It hurt like a _bitch_. His face was going to be sporting a nice bruise later, just as Torque had said. Clenching his jaw shut, he refused to give Torque the satisfaction of crying out as the meathead backed away and walked down the hallway with his friends, saying "Come on, guys- Membrane's no fun today. We'll try again another time."

Bringing a hand up, Dib touched the spot on his cheek gingerly, wincing at the pain even that light exploratory touch brought. Yep- that'd be a looker. It was probably already turning colors, Dib thought as he peeled himself off the locker. He preferred the wedgies he got back in gradeskool much more than punches he got now. Sighing angrily, he walked the rest of the way down the hall and into his own class, fuming over the injustice of the skool. For all the anti-bullying programs the skool constantly shoved down the students' throats, it certainly didn't help the matter any.

Splaying his legs out under his desk and slumping down in his seat, Dib halfheartedly took out his green science folder. Despite his insistence he would never turn to real science, he couldn't deny he had a knack for the subject; and if his father ever got wind of that, he'd be pressing Dib to pursue real science even more than he already did. Tuning out the lecture on balancing chemical equations, Dib watched a pair of birds flit around outside the window. He already knew how to balance even the hardest of equations in the book, and it wasn't like there was much else he could do in the meantime.

"Dib!" His teacher snapped, bringing Dib's attention to the front of the room.

"Uh, yes sir?" Dib asked, trying to seem like he had been listening.

"Since you seem like you're _so involved _in today's lesson, why don't you come up to the board and balance number...hm, number 8 for us." The teacher asked, tapping his foot expectantly as Dib hauled himself reluctantly out of his seat and trudged to the front of the classroom.

SnO2 + H2 → Sn + H2O

Dib snorted. _This_ was the best Mr. Dules could come up with? He could solve this in a _coma_, speaking a foreign language, and talking to deaf apes.

SnO2 + 2 H2 → Sn + 2 H2O

Dib scrawled the answer quickly on the board and sat back down, raising an eyebrow as Mr. Dule's eye twitched at being so easily thwarted.

"That was...very good, Dib. Thank you." his teacher ground out. Losing the edge to his voice though, his teacher asked "Dib? What happened to your face?"

"Oh, uh..." Dib cast around for a believable excuse. "Just, you know, chasing bigfoot through the hallways and I fell. My bad. It was just a really hairy kid anyway, so it wasn't a big deal." Dib stuttered, dipping his head as a few chuckles echoed around the room.

"Oh. Well, alright. But pay attention." Mr. Dules said, still looking unconvinced as he uncapped a marker and began to write on the board again.

"Yes sir." Dib responded quietly, immediately looking out the window again. The birds were still out there, doing loops and spins and arcs together in perfect harmony. Picking up his pencil, he began to sketch them to pass the time; all the years of drawing Zim's alien features and other visual notes in his logbooks had turned him into a moderately decent artist, but by no means a Da Vinci. While his pencil toiled away, his mind busied itself with thinking over the day's events. Zim had once again been unusually forthcoming with information, and Dib even learned that Irkens weren't injured by pure water- it was just Earth's "filthy, polluted poop water", as Zim had said, that caused him to burn. And then that lovely incident with Torque in the hallway...

Damn that Torque. He hadn't always been such a...such a _douche_. It had always been Chunk before that, but Chunk had moved past tormenting Zim or Dib to spending all his free time eating anything and everything he could. Torque made a point to harass Dib as much as possible though, and Dib felt his throat clench with anger just thinking about it. Maybe if he spent more time lifting weights and less time spying on Zim and investigating other paranormal things he'd have a little more muscle to be able to fight back with or, in the very least, not make him such an obvious target. But he was hopelessly thin, Dib knew- he'd grown respectably tall, but unfortunately his biceps hadn't taken the cue.

Mr. Dules assigning homework pulled Dib from his thoughts, and he turned the paper with the almost finished birds over and jotted down the page number and problems. About to resume putting the finishing touches on the wings, class ended before Dib had even picked his pencil back up. Frowning, he shrugged and placed the paper in his folder- he'd finish it tomorrow. It would give him something to do while Mr. Dules went over the theory of relativity- which, naturally, Dib already knew.

* * *

"Ah...ow." Dib muttered as he poked at the bruise blossoming across his face. Gaz had noticed it immediately on their walk home and inquired about it,threatening death upon his assailant. Dib knew she acted like she wanted him to explode daily, but she did have an iota of caring somewhere in her soul. Luckily he had managed to play it down enough to get Gaz to stop asking about it- the last thing he needed was his little sister fighting his battles for him.

Stepping out of the bathroom, Dib took the stairs down to the bottom floor two at a time. Gaz was sitting in front of the tv, watching a movie about what appeared to be zombies in space. Rolling his eyes at the typical Gaz choice of the evening, he turned towards the kitchen. His feet padded across the cold linoleum as he traipsed to the fridge, and grasping the metal handle, he opened it with a "chnk." Pulling out a soda and the last frozen tv dinner that was sandwiched between a leg of ham and a package of chicken breasts , he popped it into the microwave and punched in 3:00. Deranged growls and moans and the glow from the tv filtered in from the living room as Dib grabbed a plastic baggie from the cabinet next to the stove and opened the freezer, filling it with ice. Sealing it shut, he pressed it against his face as he walked back over to the microwave and leaned against the counter, waiting for his food to finish cooking.

What should he ask Zim about tomorrow? The list of things he had queued to ask the alien was near endless, but deciding on what was most important was difficult. He could ask Zim about how their society functioned and exactly what role their two leaders played- he'd always wanted to know how such a vast empire was run. Another thought struck him as the microwave beeped and Dib grabbed the package out. What about Zim himself? What was his story? Was he no different from all the other invaders from his planet, or did he have something unique about his past that set him apart from the masses?

Dumping the food onto a plate and tossing the container into the trash can, Dib grabbed a fork and his soda and sat down at the table. Taking a bite and shrugging, he decided that as far as frozen cheap food went, this meal would have to suffice. Chewing, he thought about other things to question the alien about- like that little robot he kept around. It malfunctioned obviously, and Dib had rarely ever seen it follow a direct order correctly. Why have a robot minion if it wouldn't even listen to you?

Dib shifted the ice bag as he thought about it. _"Maybe...maybe Zim just doesn't have the heart to fix Gir. I mean, Gir is probably the only thing he can actually talk to besides his computer- he has about as many friends as I do."_ Dib guessed. He wondered what having a long conversation with Gir was actually like; it probably involved the loss of brain cells, regardless of what was said. Feeling the tug of sleep beginning to pull on him, Dib groaned as he remembered Mr. Dules's homework. Oh well; at least it would be easy, and at least he was the only teacher to have assigned work that day.

Tossing his plate and fork in the dishwasher and bag of ice in the sink, Dib threw his empty can of soda in the recycling bin and headed back upstairs. Quickly getting his nightly hygiene in the bathroom over with, he entered his room and shut the door behind him. Plopping himself down at his desk, he pulled over his textbook and dug through his backpack for his science folder. Grabbing a blank sheet of paper, Dib got to work on the equations- he'd be done in a snap if all the problems were as easy as the first few were.

About fifteen minutes later Dib closed his textbook with a satisfying "fwump." _"Here's another A in the gradebook."_ he thought, as he placed the finished assignment in his folder and the folder in his backpack. Yawning as he pulled out his pajamas, Dib slipped into them and sprawled across his bed in a tangle of long limbs. Opening his window, he looked up at the stars. Irk was out there somewhere- way, way out there. Just the fact that Irkens existed-and weren't the only other race out there besides humans, to boot- was incredible. It was a shame their race focused solely on conquest; they could be an incredibly helpful ally to less developed civilizations if only they didn't want to solve every problem they encountered by blowing it up.

Closing the window with a muted "thunk" Dib buried himself under the covers. Wincing at the bruise preventing him from sleeping on his side, he flipped over.

Thank goodness tomorrow was Friday.

* * *

Thanks to everybody who reviewed! I see and read every single review, and I'd respond to them individually if I could- but alas, it would take up too much space :/ But know that I appreciate every review I get, and I'm excited that people enjoy my stories so much. I think that's half the reason writers write; knowing people like their creations makes the experience all the more worthwhile :)

Again, check my author page for more updates. Thanks for the reviews, keep em' coming guys :D


	5. Machine Gun Squid Apocalypse

Thanks for being patient guys! And thanks for all the reviews, too :) I appreciate every single one. c: Sorry to all the people who anonymously reviewed my story- I didn't know they had to be approved by me before they'd show up. (They're all there now, though. And I made it so anonymous reviews would go up immediately now.) Well, enjoy the chapter :)

* * *

_"Beep...beep...beep..."_

Dib cracked an eyelid open to the weak dawn light streaming through his blinds. Mumbling incoherently, he slammed a fist down on the snooze button of his black alarm clock and flipped over.

"Ouch!" he interjected quietly, holding his head up off the pillow as he remembered his slugging from the day before. Cheek still stinging, he rolled over so he was on his back and looked up at his ceiling sleepily. The glow-in-the-dark stars and moons he'd pasted up there as a kid had long since lost their shine, but he kept them up there all the same as a bittersweet reminder of the simpler way life used to be. Breathing in and out slowly, he did what most people who don't want to get up in the mornings do; he merely laid there comfortably, not thinking of anything in particular and wishing for another ten minutes.

_"Beep...beep...beep..."_

"Ughhhh, fiiine." Dib groaned, and flopped out of bed one limb at a time. His pajamas were rumpled and warm from sleep, and he would regret having to change out of them. Standing up groggily, he switched his alarm fully off and grabbed a fresh pair of clothes from his closet. Draping them over his arm he left his room with a zombielike lurch and slipped into the bathroom, grateful that Gaz was either already done or using the downstairs one. "Hmmnn, stupid hair..." He grumped, brushing it up and back into its usual scythe. Tossing the brush back in his drawer, he leaned forward and took stock of his cheekbone in the mirror. A light purple tint in a shape reminiscent of a circle spread across his cheek, and it hurt just to look at. And while it wasn't terribly obvious thanks to him icing it last night, it would be turning all sorts of wonderful colors over the weekend. Well, at least the timing was good.

Dib's stomach rumbled hungrily- his frozen tv dinner last night hadn't been all that big and he ate like a black hole now that he was in hi skool. "Gaz, can you put a piece of bread in the toaster for me?" Dib called out, hoping Gaz had both heard him and decided to listen. Finishing up in the bathroom, Dib grabbed his bookbag and a pair of socks and tromped down the stairs.

"Here's your toast, Dib. You're lucky its not the last piece or I would have eaten it." Gaz offered Dib the barely charred piece of bread as he entered the kitchen, and he accepted it with a "thanks." and rooted through the fridge for the butter.

"Good morning son, daughter." The scholarly voice coming from the flying tv monitor startled Dib, but he remembered not to turn around at the last second. Pretending to still be on the hunt for the butter, he said into the fridge "Hey dad. How's that nuclear ion beam coming?"

"Oh, splendidly son. In fact, they need me back in the testing room right now, so have a wonderful day you two." Dr. Membrane said quickly, walking offscreen and cutting the transmission as the device helicoptered away.

"Bye...dad." Dib said in a disappointed voice as he "found" the butter. Gaz spooned Coco Splodeys into her mouth as Dib buttered his toast and crunched into it, and the two of them sat in a comfortable silence.

"You know Dib, your banishment was only for the day. I'm not going to sacrifice your spleen to bat demons if you come back to our usual lunch table now." Gaz informed Dib as she cleaned up the remains of her breakfast, raising an eyebrow when Dib downed the rest of his toast and shook his head.

"I've been prodding Zim for all sorts of information these past few days- you won't believe what I've learned. He's got two toes and claws, did you know? And his entire home planet is nothing but snack machines and buildings. There's so much more I can learn!" Dib said in a giddy rush, pulling on his socks and heading for his shoes by the door.

"Why is Zim bothering to tell you all this? I thought you two, like, wanted to kill each other?" Gaz inquired suspiciously, placing her hands on her hips and eyeballing Dib.

Dib laced up his boots, pushing the metal tipped aglets through the holes with years of practice as he answered "Yeah...I guess that stopped a long time ago. He said something about his mission being fake or whatever, but that he'd personally still try to destroy the Earth on occasion. I don't believe him, though. He acts like he's lost all motivation for conquering our planet now that he knows his leaders don't care about it." Dib explained, tying the bow on his last boot and hefting his backpack up with him.

"He would have never conquered the Earth anyway even without you here to stop him. He's just so bad at it, like I said." Gaz grumbled, pushing past Dib and out the front door. Dib trotted to catch up, and the two of them walked to hi skool together as the sun crept farther up the sky.

* * *

"Dib beast. Why have you decided to put "makeup" on your face?" Zim asked immediately once Dib sat down.

"It's not makeup you moron, guys don't wear makeup. Well not most of them, anyway...it's a bruise. Can't you aliens get them too?" Dib queried back to Zim, trying to draw his attention towards the question more than his answer.

"You mean the bursting of capillary blood vessels near the surface of the skin, usually in the event of an impact? Yes, of course." Zim waved his gloved hand dismissively. Pointing at Dib's face, he continued "But now I ask- what caused that? Not been chasing bigfeet again have you, stink smell?"

"No! I...fell. When uh, running. Yeah." Dib pulled the excuse out of his ass, mentally sighing when Zim narrowed his eyes and placed his hand on the glossy tabletop and tapped the claws impatiently. He might have been absolutely clueless about most things, but he was pretty smart in his own way.

"Fine, fine. Torque Smacky punched me. Happy now?" Dib relented, redirecting his attention to his lunch and picking at it.

"That horrible meat child?" Zim asked, claws stilling.

"Zim, you've gotta work on your description." Dib rolled his eyes, taking a bite of mashed potatoes.

"The large one with that smelly purple jersey. Has an odd obsession with lifting things." Zim clarified.

"Mhm, thaf's hm." Dib said around the potatoes.

"I despise that smelly beast-pig. He bothers Zim as well." Zim growled, and grated his claws across the table angrily. "If only I didn't have to blend in with your disgusting population- I'd have put the fear of the Empire in him in a heartbeat."

_"I get why he wears those..."_ Dib thought, gulping as he imagined them leaving scores down the table. Or, better still, Torque Smacky's face. "So, uh, what do the Irkens who aren't invaders do? Or are you all invaders?"

"Hah! All invaders!" Zim took a moment to cackle, then recovered and continued haughtily. "Only the best of the best become invaders, Dib. They are the elite of our society- the smartest, the strongest, the... _hungriest_." Zim hissed, seeming pleased with himself as he described his own rank. "Had certain...incidents not happened, I would have been looked up to as second only to the Tallest." Zim added, crossing his arms self righteously.

"Incidents?" Dib parroted; that little tidbit hadn't gotten by him.

"Argh, yes, Dib worm...incidents." Zim repeated.

Silence stretched between them for a minute.

"...Hmph. I created a giant indestructible energy blob that devoured the previous tallest, and I blew up Irk during Operation Impending Doom I." Zim admitted, wilting a little at the confession.

Dib decided to let the alien retain what little dignity he probably had left. "You never answered my question. What do other Irkens do?"

"Oh. Food service, maintenance drones, soldiers, Invader assistants, Massive fleet members, technicians...whichever skill is needed an Irken will fill. And when their usefulness runs out, they are moved to a different occupation in order to increase productivity." Zim stated, seeming grateful when Dib didn't press him about the blob or decimation.

"What about you?"

"Eh?" Zim asked, eyes widening at Dib's simple request. "What...what about Zim?" the Irken asked warily, watching Dib carefully.

"Well, what did you do before you became an invader? I'm guessing one doesn't just become a planet conqueror overnight." Dib guessed, leaning his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand lazily.

"No. It takes years of work, dedication, skill, training, and a love for destruction. I was a foot soldier and then a weapons designer with the Vortians before I entered the academy. I clawed my way to the top one year at a time, and finally I made it. Nobody could look down on Zim for his height if his importance towered above all others'." Zim said, glaring off in the distance as he finished his no doubt condensed biography.

Dib sat quietly. He was sure Zim was leaving out details, but figured he'd press him another time. "You're not short anymore. Well, you are by human standards a little." Dib said to snap Zim out of his thoughts.

"Hm, yes. Yes I am. Funny that Zim is tall now, when it matters least." Zim mused. The bell rang, and Zim stood quickly and prepared to leave. "Dib worm. If you find yourself indisposed with moping around your house since it seems your previous job of stopping me is now significantly lessened, know this; Zim has video games."

The real meaning of the seemingly meaningless sentence was not lost on Dib- he'd been putting up with the Irken's unusual word bandy for years, and digging through his odd way of speaking had gotten easier as time passed.

"Sure." Dib called out to the Irken's retreating back, knowing the alien heard him.

* * *

"...and that, students, is why Schrödinger's cat is both dead AND alive. Questions?"

Mr. Dules paused, and when he received only a collective blank stare from the class, he chirped "Good!" and began passing out a homework sheet. Dib had finished his birds from the day before during the first half of class, so the second half had been spent actually listening. Interesting theory, Schrödinger's; not nearly as interesting as the Loch Ness Monster, however. Accepting his sheet from Mr. Dules, he shifted uncomfortably when the teacher's gaze lingered on his bruise. Mr. Dules seemed to understand Dib's desire for discreetness and merely gave the harassed teenager a probing look before continuing on.

Dib glanced down at the sheet. He resisted the urge to smack his forehead;_ this _was what they were giving hi skool science students? Dib had been given harder handouts in middle skool. Maybe this was why his species' intelligence seemed to be so...lacking. Shrugging, he began filling in the blanks and matching terms to definitions instantly- at least it wasn't a difficult assignment. Mr. Dules began droning a recap of the day's lesson, but Dib ignored it- he'd finished the front of the worksheet and was on to the back already. If he worked super fast, maybe he could finish the entire thing before class ended in two minutes...?

The bell rang and Dib threw down his pencil triumphantly. Done, in the nick of time. Even the long response questions had been pathetically simple. Shoving his things into his bag haphazardly, he raced to the front of the room with the other students- it was Friday, and he didn't feel like being questioned by a teacher when he could be escaping the campus. Dib heard Mr. Dules call his name, but he did his best to act oblivious and ducked out the door. Reaching where his locker was in the hallway, he tossed all the books he wouldn't need over the weekend in and slammed it shut, enjoying the lightened load on his shoulders. Spotting Gaz punching ditzy teenagers out of her way as she left the skool, Dib jogged up to her.

"Hi Gaz. How was your Friday?" he asked, feeling his heart ice over a little when Gaz slowly turned her head and glared into his soul.

"Dib, you stink at small talk. You stink at all talk. Just don't talk." Gaz said ominously as the two of them turned onto the street leading away from the skool.

"I...geez, sorry. What's wrong? You're not usually _this_ scary." Dib dared to sound concerned as he stepped a careful arms length away.

"Mr. Vondel called on me in class today. Me!" Gaz sounded absolutely livid.

"Um...so? Did you know the answer?" Dib risked asking.

"Of course I did. But no one asks Gaz to do _anything_. **NO ONE**." Thunder rumbled overhead as a random cloud darkened the area and a chill wind whipped up. Dib shivered; his sister was downright _terrifying_ sometimes.

"Uh, did you beat that level you were working on earlier?" Dib frantically changed the subject. Instantly the clouds moved off and the wind died down.

"Yeah. Those piggies didn't stand a chance. I used the meat slicer weapon on them." Gaz immediately returned to her normal state of slight anger, and Dib sighed in relief. Another bullet dodged.

* * *

"Gir? Gir, you don't seriously have your mouth stuck shut with peanut butter _still_, do you? It's been an entire day now." Zim asked as he shut his front door, a sucking noise coming from where the hinges should have been but only a nutty stickiness existed. Taking off his wig and peeling out his contacts, he held them in the air for his computer to reach down and retrieve while he waited for a response.

Aforementioned robot swiveled his head around, flashing a bright and happy cyan color as he nodded energetically. Zim sighed and shook his head as he walked into his kitchen and grabbed a yellow sponge out of the sink. Walking back to Gir, he pried the android's mouth open as far as it would go and began to scrub away with the sponge. Gir happily blew bubbles and giggled around the gunky peanut butter.

"Hold still, Gir! This filthy Earth food is all in your mouth and face, and if you ever want to hold a conversation with your piggy again, you're going to have to stop moving." Zim threatened, tackling Gir and holding him down as the robot giggled maniacally.

_"Ding-dong."_

"Ugh! Computer, project image of the front of the base." Zim commanded, still struggling to keep Gir from squirming away. The image popped up, and Zim let out a whoosh of air that was half surprise, half annoyance. "Rrrgh...let him in."

"But master, this is..." the computer began.

"I know who he is!" Zim snapped, flinching as Gir began to try and shake himself off like a dog. "GIR HOLD STILL! YOU'RE GETTING IT EVERYWHERE!" Zim screamed, shielding himself from the flying peanut product.

The door swung open and Dib hesitated at the threshold, seeming amazed that he'd made it as far as he had witout being shot at. His attention was quickly grabbed by Zim struggling to pin down his robot and clean out its mouth however, and Dib watched in amusement at the ensuing battle.

"Mmstah! I cn tlk 'gain!" the robot barely managed to screech between the gobs stuck in his mouth.

"No, no you can't, Gir! STOP MOVING OR NO TACOS FOR A WHOLE YEAR!" Zim finally screamed. Gir froze immediately, beginning to tear up.

"No...no tacos?" it sounded like the robot had said, seeming destroyed.

"I'll buy you some if you just let me fix you, alright? Its been strangely peaceful around here with you unable to speak- Zim dislikes the oppressive silence!" the Irken griped, sitting up and scrubbing the sponge around in Gir's now almost peanut butter-free mouth. Dib still hadn't moved from where he stood at the door, but it was obvious he was doing everything in his power to hold in his laughter.

"There Gir, you're clean. Now go do something that DOESN'T involve peanut butter elsewhere."

"Eeheeheehe!" Gir giggled, activating his rocket boosters and blowing a hole through the wall as he zoomed into his room.

"...Computer-" Zim started.

"I know, I know." The computer said, sounding irritated as mechanical hands extended down from the ceiling and began to piece the hole back together. Zim sighed in frustration as he finally turned to acknowledge Dib- who, by now, had lost the battle with himself and was holding his sides as he heaved with laughter.

"Does something amuse you, Dib monster?" Zim asked flatly, reaching up and making a face as he felt a blob of peanut butter stuck on his antenna.

"Hahaha, no, of course not." Dib said sarcastically, wiping tears from his eyes as he straightened up.

"Its been half an hour since skool got out. Do you really have nothing else to do besides annoy me?" Zim complained, marching into the bathroom to see the damage caused by the butter battle.

"Of course I...!... I don't. I really don't have anything else to do, honestly." Dib admitted sheepishly.

"Hm." Zim said apathetically. Flicking on the bathroom light, he groaned when he saw more creamy brown than he did any other color. Turning the tap on, he hissed curses in various languages while he tried to get the worst of it off his head with the purified water, eventually degenerating to grumbling in Irken to himself. Dib merely stood outside the doorframe, grinning at the alien's slow progress and growing temper.

"Dib smell, remove yourself from that location. Zim must change- there is no hope of reversing this damage without washing my uniform. Computer, show the meat brain human a selection of games to keep his pathetically small attention span occupied." Zim ordered, shutting the door in Dib's face rudely.

"My attention span is NOT short!" Dib complained, but backed away from the door when the computer opened a panel in the wall beside the tv. Crossing the room and stepping over to it, Dib perused the titles. "Hm...Vampire Piggy Hunter III, Death by Zombie Salesmen...wow that one sounds stupid... Die Die Die, Machine Gun Squid Apocalypse- I love that one!- Pro Boxing... wait, Pro Boxing? Why the hell does Zim have that?" Dib read some of the games aloud, excited at seeing some of his favorites and perplexed at the other seemingly random selections.

"Master told me to order a bunch of random ones online a couple months ago. Said he didn't care what, as long as it was a video game. He does play the head exploding game a lot though...the one with the nuns."

The computer's input had Dib searching for where the voice emanated from, but it seemed to echo from nowhere and everywhere at once. Giving up, Dib picked Machine Gun Squid Apocalypse off the shelf and popped it into the only slot on the tv, hoping it would play. The screen flickered to life and the main menu of the game was displayed; the red-eyed, pissed-off looking squid holding a machine gun was wrapping its tentacles around the different gameplay options, roaring every couple seconds at the humans who ran from it in terror at the bottom of the options list. Dib was at a loss for a few seconds until something hard clocked him in the back of the head.

"Ow!" He yepled, stooping over to pick up the game controller that had collided with his skull and set his brain rattling.

"Sorry." The computer yawned, not sounding apologetic in the least.

Dib glared at the general area he thought the voice was coming from, but then turned around and selected the "Squid Cadet" difficulty mode. Walking over to the pink couch while the game loaded Dib dropped onto it heavily, feeling a chill crawl down his spine as he looked up and back at the disturbing green monkey picture Zim STILL had on his wall.

"Choose your death weapon!" The game screamed at Dib, breaking his trance. Selecting the machine gun with laser pointer, the game started with a splash of blood changing the setting to that of a dark city. Playing as the squid, Dib gave the game his undivided attention as he slimed down the streets, mowing down enemy squids and human law enforcement officers. A particularly burly troll-looking human ran from the depths of a side alley, and Dib swiveled just in time to end it with a headshot, his squid onscreen making a screeching noise of triumph and flailing its tentacles at the victory. "Yes!" Dib yelled, looking at his score shoot up.

"Machine Gun Squid Apocalypse...not a bad choice, human." Zim said from where he stood smoothing his uniform out by the couch, causing Dib to jump up and assume a defensive pose out of instinct.

"Oh...yeah, this game is pretty awesome." Dib replied, loosening up once he got a grip on the situation and turning his attention back to slaughtering his foes.

"Dib beast, switch this game to competitive mode. I'm going to show you how a game about homicidal squid monsters is _supposed_ to be played." Zim said after watching Dib shoot a couple more enemy robot squids, and Dib saw a second controller shoot out from a hole in the wall and crash into the back of Zim's head as well. _"Heh, at least the computer doesn't discriminate." _Dib thought, pausing the game and selecting "main menu" while he watched Zim snarl and pick up the controller, rubbing his head where the it had flown into him.

"Move over. Your stupid legs are taking up the entire sofa." Zim groused, waving his hands irritably at Dib. Dib noticed the Irken had chosen to only replace the shirt and pants of his usual uniform, foregoing his gloves and...and his boots.

"You DO only have two toes!" Dib exclaimed, looking at Zim's feet as the alien motioned for Dib to select versus mode. His claws clicked loudly across the tiled floor as he sat down on the opposite end of the couch as far as he could get from Dib.

"Did you think I was lying, foolish human poop beast?" Zim asked, ruby eyes glued to the tv and antennae perked in interest as the weapons selection screen came up.

"No, but its cool to know you weren't for sure." Dib said, selecting his laser pointer machine gun again and pressing ok. Zim cycled through the weapons a moment, hmm-ing when he passed the chainsaw gun and the flamethrower-slash-gattling gun. Eventually selecting the chainsaw gun, he selected ok as well and the game gave the option to select a squid color before the match started. Dib picked blue and Zim predictably picked red, and the game began with the tidal wave of blood.

The two of them immediately looked at their respective mini-maps, having intentions only for besting the other- civilians and other enemies were largely ignored as their squids charged towards one another in a gurgling fury. Zim yelled as he finally spotted Dib rounding a corner, and his red squid gave chase. Dib's squid spun around and he began firing off bullets, grinning as he saw Zim's health bar ticking down while his enemy lunged towards him.

"I'm gonna win, Zim! There's nothing you can do to-" Dib's premature victory yell was cut short with a choking noise. A chainsaw flash by on his top screen accompanied with a "WhhrrRRrr!", and the camera zoomed out to show his squid lying mutilated in a puddle of blood, severed tentacles twitching and the words "Player 2 Wins" scrolling across the screen as Zim's red squid hefted its chainsaw overhead and roared.

"You were going to what, Dib beast?" Zim asked innocently, grinning at Dib's infuriated expression.

"You totally cheated! You ran right through my stream of bullets and chainsawed me to death! You should have died before you even got to me!" Dib protested angrily, selecting "rematch" the instant it popped up.

"I merely took a risk. I saw an opening, and I went for it. And it ended with you getting chainsawed." Zim began to cackle as Dib flipped through the weapons, but the alien's revelry was cut short when Gir burst through the wall in a shower of dust and plaster.

"Mmmhhmmmhm!" the android's voice was too muffled to make anything out, but he rolled around on the floor happily hugging himself.

"Gir, why do you sound like...OH NO!"

Dib laughed his ass off when Gir grinned, revealing a gooey marshmallowy nightmare. Coming over to Zim's _had_ been a good idea.

And perhaps two rivals could become friends over something as simple as a squid apocalypse.

* * *

Whew. Long chapter. Next one should have some more actual plot advancement though, never fear- I just think having them slowly begin to get along makes more sense than becoming bff's like overnight, you know? Anyway, I digress. Read and review please, because reviews make me happy and it lets me know people are following my work :D


	6. A Brewing Storm

Sorry for the late update, but here it is now. Thank you for being patient, everyone. You're all awesome. :)

* * *

Dib had left that Friday afternoon around 8, saying he should be at home early enough to make an actual dinner for himself and his sister. Zim couldn't deny he was a little disappointed when the human left- the two of them had been killing each other in Machine Gun Squid Apocalypse for the past few hours, and no clear victor had emerged from the slaughter. Dib had left with a taunting "I'll prove to you I'm a better squid soldier another time, Zim!" with Zim screaming denials and insults at his retreating back.

Shutting the door, Zim turned around to survey the living room. Gir had, surprisingly enough, sat mostly still and watched their competition silently; and Zim balked at the thought of having to scrub out an even worse mess than the peanut butter. The spot on the couch where Zim and Dib had battled had two weight indentations, right next to the other. (They had gradually moved closer during the matches to allow for better elbow jabs and kicks, with the intent of disrupting the other player.) Dib had yanked one of Zim's antenna during a match, earning him a win, but Zim had gotten him back the very next round with a well-placed kick to his shin.

Picking up the controllers, Zim noted the surface scratches on the handholds of his where he had gripped it a little too tightly during the carnage. Oh well; the damage was only cosmetic. Placing them on the table near the entrance to the kitchen, Zim sighed and grabbed Gir by his one blue-tipped metal antennae and dragged him into the kitchen. Plunking the android in the sink, Zim gave the robot a stern look.

"No splashing. You already ruined my last uniform- don't ruin this one too." Zim instructed, still unconvinced even when Gir flashed red, saluted, and said "Yes sir!"

Turning on the water, he grumbled as he cleaned Gir's mouth out for the _second time _that day. True to his word, Gir didn't splash around- but that didn't stop him from blowing so many bubbles the kitchen was filled with the floating little things.

"Ugh. There, you're done Gir. And I mean it this time- no more getting your mouth stuck together!" Zim said, waving his hands in the air to clear a path through the bubbles to his laboratory entrance.

"Ok, mastah!" Gir said, and giggled. Before Zim stepped into the fake trashcan however, the robot lost his dopey expression. "Mastah? You and big head boy wasn't tryin' to kill each other today. Why?"

Zim paused a moment and regarded his robot. "Because... I don't know, Gir. Maybe its because things have changed." Zim answered as best he could, frowning at the robot's blank expression. Heaving a sigh, he bent over with his hands on his knees and stared into the cyan orbs. ""Mastah" and "big head boy" is friends now! So don't blow him up." Zim said in an imitation of the way Gir spoke, and when things clicked in his servant's little metal head and he smiled widely, Zim nodded satisfactorily and dropped himself down the trash chute.

That little android. He may be a pain in the ass, but other than his computer- which really wasn't any good at conversation at all- he was the only thing Zim interacted with. Gir even knew a little rudimentary Irken, and it felt nice to hold a conversation in his native tongue once and a while. Even if that conversation was about pigs or slurpees. _"Well...there's the Dib now, as well." _Zim thought, crossing his arms and tapping his foot as the elevator slowly descended to his underground labs.

The Dib. The biggest thorn in his side since he first landed on this planet, and now they were able to hold a somewhat decent conversation and play violent video games together. Stepping off the elevator once it reached the bottom, Zim proceeded into his main computer room. Flicking to life at the Irken's presence, Zim merely stood and watched the screen for a time. His last transmission from his Tallests had been here, and they had expressed their distaste with him quite obviously. Shortly after, any attempt at contact he made with them had been denied. Shrugging, he began to run a diagnostic on the house's brain. His computer's personality had begun to get a little too condescending as of late, Zim felt, and wondered if a bug somewhere in the system was to blame.

Finding nothing, he frowned. Perhaps his computer was rude simply because it felt like acting as such. Waving a hand lazily, he summoned a chair through the floor and sat down in it. What was there to do? Taking over the Earth just didn't seem appropriate anymore; without the empire to devote his life to, what was left for him? Dragging a claw across the red fabric and picking at the white fluff that came out, he rested his head in his hand. He was...what did the humans call it? He was _bored_. Well, at least he still had stasis.

Walking to his pod room to pass the rest of the night without thought, he reflected on how things had changed. Himself, the Dib thing, his "mission", the skool... Irkens were taught to adapt to change, but not to cause it- rebellions were prevented more easily that way. Closing the metal door of the pod room with a pneumatic hiss, Zim settled down in the seat.

"Pak, set reactivation time for...oh, whenever. Sometime tomorrow, I don't care." Zim said, stretching and yawning.

* * *

_"Bang bang bang!"_

Zim cracked open an eyelid blearily. "Go away Gir! Can't you see I'm..." Zim broke his sentence to yawn briefly "...trying to do nothing?" he finished, rolling away from the noise as much as his chair would allow. "Computer, remove Gir from that door. I'm trying to waste time here." Zim said irritably, pressing his face against the warm seat and preparing to re-induce stasis; after all, he had nothing else to do today.

"Zim! Get up. You sleep in later than I ever have."

_Dib?_ How_ dare _he!

"GET OUT OF MY LABS, stinking human!" Zim yelled, snapping out of stasis completely and jumping up and prying the door open, annoyed at the slow automatic response.

"Hey, Gir let me down here! And it's noon, dude. Why the hell are you still asleep?" Dib said, backing up when he noticed Zim's antennae were plastered against his head and an angry glare was being leveled at him.

"Irkens don't sleep! We...shut down, in a way." Zim hissed, shoving past Dib roughly and heading to his computer room. "And you shouldn't be down here- you're lucky I let you into the main level yesterday. Get out." the Irken added, never breaking stride.

"But..." Dib sounded crestfallen as he slowly tailed Zim through the purpley-red metal halls. "But Gir said it was ok for me to come down. I didn't know you were still...whatever you were." Dib defended himself, still warily watching the alien. Tentative friendship or not, Zim wasn't exactly known for his patience or gentleness. He _had _shot him out of a cannon only a few days ago, after all.

"How do I know you aren't going to take pictures and send them to your Leaky Eyeball People-"

"_Swollen _Eyeball _Network_, thank you!" Dib interrupted.

Zim ignored the interjection and continued on "- or plant any monitoring devices in my base? Hmm? In fact, how do I know you haven't already done so?"

Dib snorted, but conceded that the alien did have a point. He_ was _always up to something when he was down here, but this time he had merely wanted to ask Zim if he'd be interested in going with him to play video games at his house- he knew the alien didn't have any plans, and Dib certainly didn't. So, he figured, why not have the two social outcasts entertain each other? Besides, he had Machine Gun Squid Apocalypse _Two_.

"Well...because I let you know I was here, first of all. If I had wanted to do stuff, I would have done it and left. Because you clearly didn't even know I was here." Dib reasoned, hiding a breath of relief when Zim's antennae raised up a fraction of an inch. The alien still refused to look back and really acknowledge him however, and his claws clicked loudly against the floor as he stubbornly made his way to wherever he was going. "And, I would have taken pictures of you yesterday if I had wanted to- you weren't in your disguise the whole time." Dib went on, noticing Zim loosen up some. _"Geez. If I had known he was this horrible of a morning person, I would have left him alone and found something else to do myself." _Dib thought inwardly, realizing the alien's behavior was similar to Gaz's in the mornings- flat out grumpy, with a dash of pissed-off sprinkled in.

"I'm tolerating your presence for as long as I am down here with you, Dib piss. Which, once I find out what today's filthy Earth weather is, will not be much longer." Zim growled when they finally entered the main room and the Irken gravitated to his oddly set up keyboard. Dib watched as Zim typed more quickly with six fingers than he did with ten, and within seconds a normal looking webpage had popped up and was displaying the temperature. Other weather outlooks were displayed below it, and Dib watched as Zim squinted at the human text in annoyance.

"It says sunny with a low chance of rain. That's what you're looking for, isn't it?" Dib supplied, watching Zim nod and close out the webpage. The Irken finally turned around and eyed Dib since he'd come raging out of his pod room, and Dib stood still uncertainly. He wasn't going to get shot home again, was he?

"What video games do you have? Zim has nothing to do today, and since you took it upon yourself to bring me out of stasis, you are now required to occupy my conscious mind." he said demandingly, and Dib relaxed a little at the more cooperative tone.

"I have Machine Gun Squid Apocalypse Two. Its even more bloody and violent." Dib baited, watching Zim's antennae perk up at the mention of violence.

"That will do, Dib beast." He said simply, and passed by Dib and began walking towards what Dib could only assume was the elevator. Following happily, Dib thought about how weird things were. Here he was, in his arch enemy's base, and he hadn't taken a single picture or anything. Here he was, walking to go play video games with an alien, and he didn't feel the need to try and capture Zim. Here he was, becoming friends with the one person who'd made his life hell, and he couldn't be happier that he'd finally made a friend. People were right- weird shit _did_ happen in hi skool.

"You first. There's only room for one- without the invasion of personal space, anyway." Zim ordered, crossing his arms and drumming his toes obstinately as Dib trudged to the elevator.

"Can we at least see that laser weasel room first?" Dib tried.

"Hm...no." Zim answered after pretending to think, pressing a button and cutting off anything else Dib might have said as the elevator ascended. "Computer, bring me my boots and gloves please." Zim asked, tacking on the please in an attempt to incite less whining.

"Ugh, here." The computer said, dropping the requested items through the ceiling.

"Thank you. What about-" Zim's question was cut off as two black socks also fell through the ceiling and landed on his face. Forgoing the additional thanks, Zim pulled on the rest of his uniform as the pink hovering disc came to rest at the bottom of the elevator shaft again. Stepping onto it, Zim secured the base after his exit by clicking few options on a side panel before the elevator went up. Satisfied, he wondered for the first time that morning where his robot was. He had to be around- otherwise he wouldn't have let the Dib in. Pessimistically assuming he was sitting somewhere with his mouth stuck shut with something else, Zim stepped out of the trashcan and glanced around.

Gir was indeed home, but his mouth remained clean enough for him to speak. And speak he did.

"MASTAAAAH!"

Zim ducked without a second to spare, sending Gir hurtling into the refrigerator where his head would have been.

"Good morning to you as well, Gir." Zim said to the Gir-shaped indentation in the fridge, and the android made a muffled sound in response as he peeled himself off the appliance. Pulling his glove on tighter, Zim waited until Gir had extricated himself from the fridge before tweaking the robot's cyan antenna to get his attention.

"Gir, master and Dib...er, big head boy, as you know him, are going to his house to play video games. Listen to me; do not. Destroy. Anything. Understood?" Zim asked, searching for confirmation but receiving only a stuck-out tongue. _"Good enough, I suppose." _The Irken thought, and left the house to Gir digging through the cabinets in search of some cooking item or another.

Dib had been waiting at the door, and he furrowed his brow when Zim finally joined him. "Uh, Zim? Your disguise?" he asked, wondering if the alien had temporarily suffered amnesia.

"OH! Yes, of course. Computer?" Zim exclaimed, grabbing the wig and lenses that were extended down to him and placing them on. "I forgot completely. Zim hates these infernal contacts, and this wig smothers my _amazing_ hearing." the Irken explained, nodding at Dib that he was ready to go now and shutting the door.

"Are those the same clothes you were wearing yesterday?" Dib asked, looking sideways at the slightly wrinkled uniform.

"Yes. Why? Irkens don't do that nasty sweating thing you pig humans do, so changing clothes every day is unnecessary." Zim said flippantly, smoothing his shirt out despite Dib's comment.

"If you say so." Dib responded, and the two of them walked to Dib's in a comfortable silence.

"So...how much more bloody is this second game?"

* * *

The rest of the weekend passed in a similar manner to Friday and Saturday, and both males had had their pride shattered when Gaz stepped in at one point and obliterated them both within seconds of the loading screen ending. Regardless, Zim and Dib were evenly matched in the sequel game as well and both agreed to disagree on the real victor.

And so Monday rolled around, much to the annoyance of both beings. Because Monday meant the start of an entire week of skool, and hand in hand with skool were the people_ in _the skool.

Dib sat in class, drumming his fingers along the edge of his desk in boredom. He was busy ignoring his teacher, a small bird-like lady with a quiet voice, because he hated English. He felt it was pointless... at least for him, anyway. He knew English well enough to be able to read, write, and speak it fluently; wasn't that enough? Was knowing prepositions and demonstratives and parts of speech _really_ necessary as long as he knew how to use them? Holding back a noise of annoyance at the work required of the class in the textbook that day, Dib sloppily wrote down half-assed answers. Flipping his paper over once he was finished, he began to doodle spaceships and alien heads to pass the time.

Growing bored with the endeavor after a few minutes, Dib put his head down on the desk and closed his eyes. God, this class was so boring...

A poking sensation on the back of his neck woke Dib up a good twenty minutes later, and he blearily looked over his shoulder to see the kid behind him holding out a sheaf of papers expectantly. "Oh, right. Ok." Dib mumbled, taking the pile and adding his own work to it. Passing the entire collection forward, he yawned and wiped away the tears that collected at the corners of his eyes. At least he never had to worry about not getting enough sleep- he usually made it up in skool. Putting his head back down, he wondered if Zim ever "slept" in class. Dib mentally snorted- that high and mighty know-it-all alien? Undoubtedly.

...

"What an extraordinary lesson, don't you think children?" Zim's economic teacher was prattling on. In response he got silence and a yawn from somewhere in the back of the room, and he knit his brow in disappointment. "What do you think...Zim?" Hearing his name caught the Irken's attention, and he looked up from idly stabbing a pencil between his fingers.

"Uhm...yes. It was very... enlightening." Zim said uncertainly, meeting his teacher's piercing gaze. A moment passed heavily and Zim was sure he was the only one who noticed it, and felt a chill creep up his spine.

Mr. Ernhart turned back to the board and wrote down the night's assignment, the marker squeaking along the whiteboard seeming particularly grating. Zim kept his eye contact with the teacher to a minimum for the remainder of the class, instead choosing to stare at the board or pretend to be reading out of the textbook.

After what felt like an eternity and a half, the bell rang. Rather than meticulously organizing his things like he usually did, Zim scooped up his belongings and wrestled his way into the throng of students heading for the door.

"Zim, could you wait a moment? I want to speak to you." Mr. Ernhart's voice called out from behind him. An Irken curse word slithered off Zim's tongue and he froze, and the herd of students parted around him. Reluctantly turning around, he walked the long mile back to the teacher's desk.

"Zim, what country are you from?"

The question blindsided the alien, who blinked for a moment before answering. "This one." He said automatically, taking an imperceptible step away from the desk and to the door.

"Ah. So why is it you're green, again?" Mr. Ernhart asked, squinting at Zim over the round lenses of his glasses.

"I have a skin condition. I thought the skool had notified all my teachers so this _terribly sensitive _subject was not brought up needlessly." Zim asked, playing the pity card and hoping it worked. He was, after, just a normal Earth human with a skin condition.

"Ah. Yes, now I remember. Its just that I've never seen any medical condition like it. Are there others like you?" The loaded question was sent Zim's way, and the Irken had the common sense to answer ambiguously.

"I don't know. Perhaps." he said, edging towards the door a bit more.

"And, I noticed you seem to be missing some fingers. Odd. Must make writing hard- is that why so many of your letters look off?" Mr. Ernhart commented, looking at Zim's only visible hand holding onto his notebooks.

"I had...gangrene when I was little. And I've adapted, but my writing will never look perfect." the alien made up on the spot, for once wishing Dib _would_ barge in and give him an excuse to leave.

"Hm. Your skool medical record also says your lack of ears or a nose is related to your skin condition. That's quite an odd condition, whatever it is." the teacher observed, lacing his fingers together and staring unblinkingly at Zim.

"Yes. Yes it is." A moment passed when neither one of them said a word, until Zim pretended to realize something. "_Well_, Zim is hungry and my lunchtime is shortening as we speak- he is leaving now. Goodbye, Mr. Ernhart." Zim hastily said, not giving the teacher time to pry any further. Zim had had teachers inquire about his "condition" on multiple occasions before, but this teacher in particular... there was just something about this teacher that made his squeedly spooch crawl with warning.

"Yes, you're right. I apologize for keeping you so long. Enjoy poking at your food, Zim." Mr. Ernhart said before Zim dashed out the door, languidly beginning to grade papers.

"That "boy"... there's more to him than meets the eye. I just know it." the teacher whispered darkly to himself in the empty classroom. "And I intend to find out. Soon."

* * *

Saying this worked on my other story, so I'll mention it here too: You peeps who fave and run, I see you :p (really, I do. Its in my story stats thing I can look at.) You should drop me a review every now and then. Because even though I am happy you like my story enough to favorite it, I'd also really love to know what you think about it. No review is a stupid review :) R&R, my friends~


	7. Boiling Over

"And you're so convinced he's suspicious of you...why exactly?" Dib asked, pillowing his head in his hand as he listened to Zim's rant with a raised eyebrow.

"Because! He asked too many questions about Zim. Too many. Too..._searchingly_." Zim said intensely, frowning at as he remembered the teacher's intrusiveness.

"Hm. Well, all I can tell you is to keep on your guard around him. Although I really think you're worrying over nothing- you have a long history of being even more paranoid than me." Dib advised, also frowning. Was this Mr. Ernhart really that bad? Or was Zim just reading too far into things? Watching the alien poke at the cafeteria sludge and make disgusted noises, Dib wondered if maybe he _wasn't_ the only person smart enough to tell Zim wasn't of this Earth.

Being proven right to the world at the expense of Zim getting sliced up on an autopsy table wasn't worth it anymore. Now that Dib really thought about it, it was pretty horrible- he certainly wouldn't want _his_ intestines pulled out while he was still alive. Offhandedly hearing the Irken mutter something in an unknown tongue at the supposed food, Dib thought of something else. "Hey, Zim? Teach me Irken."

"Teach you...what? Ahahahaa! Human," Zim cackled, recovering after his short outburst and holding back more laughter as he continued on, "it would take you forever to learn my language. Your idiotic, nonsensical English is nothing like it. The structure, the grammar, the words- neither has much in common with the other. Besides, I doubt you could make half the sounds our language involves anyway." Zim had begun stacking the food into a little tower atop his plate as he finished speaking, adding mashed potatoes for support here and there and giving it height with chunks of chicken.

Dib shook his head at the childish display of self entertainment, but ignored it for the time being. "But...can't you teach me anything? I mean, someone who's never even heard a language can still learn bits and pieces if they're translated. Irken can't be any different." Dib tried one last time, boring holes into the back of Zim's head with his eyeballs, willing the alien to at least consider it.

So when Zim abandoned his tower, turned around, looked him in the eye and spoke a stream of unintelligible words at him, Dib could only blink stupidly.

"That, _meathead_, was Irken. What I said was particularly nasty, too- but you'll never know!" Zim grinned, showing his odd zipperlike teeth, and initiated reconstruction of his tower.

"Aw, come on! What did you even say?" Dib pleaded, wondering if Zim had mentioned the size of his head anywhere in there.

Zim ignored him. "We'll start with the basics. You, dirt worm, are going to find this infuriating at times; I hope you fully know what you've requested of me." Zim informed Dib, balancing a spoon horizontally on top of the tower with slow, careful precision.

"Ok." Dib said, and he waited in silence while Zim tried to place a piece of chicken on each end of the spoon without knocking it off. "Are...are you going to teach me now?" Dib impatiently asked when Zim leaned in closer to the tower and proceeded to try and stack even more objects on top of the spoon.

"I will give you a few sounds to practice when you aren't in my company so I don't have to listen to you _completely_ mangle my native tongue. When you feel you are able to say them accurately enough to not cause me to laugh at you due to your foolish ineptness, we will proceed." Zim stated, never once breaking concentration on his growing stack of items. "They are..."

* * *

What the hell kind of language _was _Irken? The list Zim had given him at lunch earlier that day had been so foreign to his ears that Dib had needed to write down a rough phonetic spelling of each sound in order to even remember them. It had almost no G sounds to speak of, but a whole lot of S's and T's; which made sense, given the serpentine shape of an Irken's tongue. Dib imagined S's and T's would be easy to say if your tongue was shaped like that.

So here he sat in his little nest of computers, compiling all the new things he had learned about Irkens into a document for safekeeping. The folder he saved it to had originally been for submissions to the Swollen Eyeball Network, but Dib didn't submit things to his group of paranormal enthusiasts as often as he used to anymore.

But wouldn't it be ironic, Dib thought, if the one time he tried to keep information from them they believed him and looked into Zim's existence. Even if Zim was an alien- an alien with an attitude problem and superiority complex- that didn't change the fact that he had held true to his word; no evil plots or moronic schemes had been cooked up and enacted, and Zim seemed completely indifferent to destroying the planet now.

_"Its because...its because he's got nowhere else to go if he wipes this place out, isn't it...?" _Dib realized with a sporadic flash of insight, leaning back from his keyboard and feeling things click in his head as to _why_ Zim hadn't kept up with his goal despite not having his leaders' support. If the outcast Irken blew up Earth, he'd literally have nothing left. Well, except Gir. But oh god, an eternity alone with Gir would drive even a nun insane.

Typing this realization into the document as well, Dib continued to add things to the file while also becoming more familiar with the way Irken was spoken. Practicing with difficulty what Zim had said so easily made his mouth feel clumsy, but he pressed on. Maybe if he could just get used to the way the language seemed to sound, his attempts would begin to be more similar to the way he remembered Zim pronouncing things.

Muttering to himself the rest of the night, Dib occupied himself with improving on the language- he'd love to see the look on Zim's face if he managed to nail it on his first go. Zim wouldn't know he'd spent hours practicing, after all.

* * *

_"I bet that fool human has managed to muck up every one of the basic sounds I gave him. I wouldn't be surprised if he fails so miserably he has me rolling on the floor with laughter." _Zim thought, head resting on his crossed arms on his desk. The students were broken out into pairs to complete an assignment, but as usual Zim had chosen to pair up with the only other acceptable person in the room; himself. The teenagers were talking and laughing loudly as they worked (or neglected to work) and Zim futilely wished they didn't have such annoying voices. Finishing his assignment in record time by calling upon the information his Pak had stored away about the lesson, Zim had pushed the paper to the corner of his desk to indicate he was obviously finished and not to be questioned.

Watching the teacher scolding a group of slacking jocks, Zim tried to smother the warning sensation he got whenever he thought about him. His economics teacher hadn't been interested in him until just recently, and Zim wondered why- it wasn't like he had changed anything to make himself seem out of place. Regardless of Zim's conjectures, Mr. Ernhart had treated him normally today, and Zim had begun to think he really was being too paranoid like the Dib monkey had said. Humans were inconceivably stupid, after all. No one other than Dib and his sister knew who he really was, and Zim doubted that would ever change.

"Zim?" The soft call from across the classroom caused Zim to snap his head up to locate its source, and he saw Mr. Ernhart staring at him, intrigued. "Zim, you looked up which means you must have heard that. How did you hear me calling your name from all the way over here with everybody talking?" the teacher asked in the same almost imperceptible volume, looking at Zim as though he could divine the alien's true nature with only his eyes.

Immediately catching on, Zim tried to cover his slip. By pretending not to have heard Ernhart's question, he broke the gaze and looked around the rest of the room interestedly, trying to seem as though he had naturally chosen to pick his head up at that moment.

"I know you can hear me, Zim. You can't hide it. And I must say, that level of aural ability is most...inhuman. Why, the students three feet from me aren't even aware I'm talking. _But you are_."

The icily hushed tone filtered through the voices to Zim's covered antennae, and the Irken tried desperately to act unaware by placing his head back down on his desk nonchalantly and rolling his pencil around.

"You're a wolf in sheep's clothing; and I'm going to find you."

The warning sent a shudder through Zim.

Mr. Ernhart _knew_.

* * *

_"Dib human!"_

The scream coming from his cell phone's speaker made Dib wince and hold the phone away from his ear a little, and he hesitantly brought it close again.

"Zim? What do you want? And how did you get my number? And I thought you didn't have a phone?" Dib asked all at once, taking a bite out of an apple as he sat alone at the lunch table. "And hey, where are you? I was supposed to show you how good I got at those basic sounds from yesterday. Don't tell me you're afraid I'll prove you wrong?" Dib taunted, scanning the lunchroom for any sign of the Irken.

_"Dib! Dib, listen to Zim. He knows."_

The Irken's slightly higher pitched voice and rapid breathing set off an instinctive alarm in Dib's head, and he immediately sobered up. "Who knows what?" He asked, not wasting any time.

_"The teacher I've been telling you about! He __**knows**__." _Zim emphasized, and there was a moment of silence on the line with only the Irken's panicked but quiet intakes of breath. _"He said he'd find me. And something about a sheep wearing wolf clothes, I don't know. Another ridiculous human idiom I assume."_

"Oh...Oh no." Dib said slowly. He was stunned. Someone OTHER than him, WITHOUT his interference, had discovered the truth about the "skin condition" child? Incredible. There _was_ one intelligent specimen left among his species after all- but that didn't matter right now. "Zim, where are you? What are you going to do?" Dib asked quietly, trying to look casual as he slouched at the table and took another bite from his apple. His appetite was long gone, however.

_"Zim is in the restroom. I...I must leave. I must get back to my base and devise a plan to get rid of this human before he becomes a threat."_ Zim said, lowering his voice even more.

"_Before _he becomes a threat? Don't you think its a little late for that, Zim?" Dib asked, but felt like kicking himself immediately after; his sarcasm wasn't helping. "Look, just go to the nurse's office and say you want to leave campus, that you're not feeling well. Just ask to walk home. You'll be better off there. I'll cover for you if that teacher asks me anything about you. Now go!" Dib said urgently, but waited until he heard the click of Zim hanging up.

_"...Dib. Why are you helping me?"_

The question caught Dib off guard, and he stopped and really thought for a moment before answering. "Because I don't want to lose the only friend I've made since...hm, let me think...oh yeah- _ever_. And we still haven't proven who's the better squid machinegun-ist. You're not going anywhere until we solve that problem." Dib said.

_"Thank you."_

This time the line clicked off, and Dib flipped his cell phone shut and stared at it as if it had grown legs and was crawling around on his palm. Were his ears broken? Did he seriously just hear that? Chuckling, he pocketed the cell- Zim's pride _had_ to be stinging after that one. Another thought occurred to Dib as he finished off his apple; that was the first time anyone other than Gaz had called him.

And damn was that sad.

* * *

I know this one is short; its supposed to be because the next one is going to be a lot longer and have a lot more action, and it didn't feel right condensing this one and the next one. Good news though, I at least have a plotline now and an ending in sight xD I'm thinking this story will get maybe two more chapters- we'll see. Read and review this little chappie and tell me how I did with the overall feeling of anticipation and such. (I think I pulled it off pretty good.) Thanks guys, and stay tuned :)


	8. A Situation, a Sacrifice

"So, Dib, I noticed you've been hanging out with Zim as of late. That's good- he's always been a lonely sort, and a friend would do him good."

Dib sat stiffly at the lunch table, casting glances at his black metallic watch and hoping the lunch period would be over soon. He'd been sitting in the dingy lunchroom idly for a while, and had almost decided to get up and go join Gaz when he'd been accosted. He really hadn't been surprised when Mr. Ernhart sat across from him and struck up a conversation, but as uncomfortable as it was, it gave him the opportunity to throw him off Zim's trail.

"Yeah, he doesn't really care for any of the idiots here. Neither do I. Makes sense that we'd get along." Dib answered shortly.

"Hm." The economics teacher rubbed his small chin beard and squinted in contemplation. "So, Dib, have you noticed anything...unusual about him?"

Ah. The question he'd been waiting for.

"Well _yeah_, he's _green_. Its not his fault he has a skin condition and other medical problems." Dib defended Zim, gauging the teacher's reaction. Mr. Ernhart paused and seemed to consider his words, but shook his head.

"Are you sure there's nothing...odd about him that you're not telling me, Dib? You really believe the "skin condition" thing?" Mr. Ernhart asked again, and Dib frowned. Simply convincing this teacher otherwise was clearly impossible- he hoped Zim had a plan to silence him that didn't involve violence.

"Yeah, I do. He's weird, but so am I. It's not a big deal." Dib said, trying to bring the conversation to an obvious close. Glancing at his watch for the millionth time, Dib groaned inwardly; still one minute to go.

"Somewhere to be, Dib?" Mr. Ernhart seemed to drop all pretenses at Dib's noncompliance and the simple action, glaring him down.

Dib was taken aback by the sudden change in attitude, but also glared. "Of course not, _Mr. Ernhart._ I'm just bored without my friend here to talk to. Now, if you'll excuse me."

"An interesting language Zim was speaking yesterday. I must say I've never heard anything quite like it." Mr Ernhart commented knowingly as soon as Dib finished speaking, and the human drew in a tense breath. To hell with it- Mr. Ernhart clearly already knew about Zim.

Looking the teacher right in the face, Dib repeated an Irken curse he'd heard Zim say on multiple occasions with a flare of anger in his amber eyes.

Ignoring the disturbed look on the teacher's face, Dib stood up. The bell rang right on cue and he whipped around and out the doors, trench coat fluttering. Zim would have his hands full with this one.

* * *

"You've gotta do something about this, Zim!" Dib yelled the second he barged through the men's restroom door to the Irken's house. Zim had been sitting on the holey pink couch listlessly, deep in thought, and Dib's unannounced entry almost caused him to laser the human's head off from frayed nerves.

"I know, Dib stink. Zim knows." Zim said, rubbing his temples and creasing where his brow would be if he had one. The alien remained in disguise even in the upper level with all the curtains drawn- he must be really afraid for his identity right now, Dib realized.

"So what are you planning?" Dib asked immediately, flopping onto the couch next to Zim and stretching out in an attempt to relieve some stress. There was no way Zim could go to skool tomorrow; that teacher was too unpredictable. Who could say he wouldn't try to snatch Zim's wig off or do anything else to compromise the alien? No. Mr. Ernhart had to be dealt with _today_.

"_I_," Zim began, drawing in a breath and swelling up with pride, "am going to swap his brain with that of a _goldfish_." he stated triumphantly, shaking a fist.

Dib was silent for a full minute, staring at Zim blankly while the Irken held his self satisfied pose. Then:

"That's freaking _stupid_, Zim."

Zim made an exasperated sound of irritation as he fwumped back into the couch, growling. "I know, Dib, but my only other option is to wipe his brain- and to do that I actually need to capture him and bring him down to my labs. At least the goldfish idea can be done quickly with my brainwave gun in a secluded hallway and taken for sudden insanity..." Zim trailed off, but even he saw how idiotic the goldfish idea truly was after saying it a second time.

Gritting his odd teeth, Zim spoke again without meeting Dib's eyes, gaze trained on the tiled floor instead. "Dib, I hate asking for assistance from you, but I will need your help if I am to bring him here...without _incident_." the Irken implied, seeming disgusted at requesting help but grudgingly knowing it was necessary.

"What do you want me to do...?" Dib asked hesitantly, watching Zim's expression cloud.

"You won't like it. But if you truly don't want to see me splayed dead across an autopsy table, you'll just have to deal with it." The Irken said regretfully, and Dib let out an accompanying sigh.

Accessory to extraterrestrial abduction. Greeaaat.

* * *

"_Mr. Ernhart_, Mr. Ernhart!" Dib wailed loudly, banging on the teacher's door. He'd made sure the streets were empty before attempting his little stunt, and had to hold back a nervous swallow when the dark wood door swung open and the economics teacher peered out in shock.

"D...Dib? What...?" He began, taking in the boy's ruffled appearance.

"I don't have the time Mr. Ernhart, let me inside! Hurry!" Dib said in a false panic, reaching up and applying pressure to the fake bleeding cut on his forehead. The teacher stood wordlessly aside, and Dib dashed in. He stopped in what was obviously the living room and spent a second observing. It was deceivingly normal; leather couch and reclinable chair, average plasma television set, a few framed pictures of night sky and nature scenes and what must have been Mr. Ernhart with some friends on a beach, dark blue carpeted floor...

Once his analysis was complete, Dib concentrated on making a show of shaking like a leaf while the teacher circled him.

"He... you...you were right! There_ is _something odd about Zim- he's a god damn alien!" Dib shouted dramatically with a convincing stammer, looking petrified even as Mr. Ernhart nodded to himself as if in confirmation.

The economics instructor came to a stop in front of Dib again and examined him critically. "And I thought you two were friends? Why are you here now bleeding on my clean carpet as you tell me something I already knew?" He inquired with a hint of suspicion.

"Because I had nowhere else to go! Nobody else would have believed me!" Dib allowed a hint of desperation to enter his voice as he locked sincere eyes with the man. "But when Zim's wig accidentally fell off and I called him out on it... I thought the language he'd been teaching me was some ancient form of island tongue-that's what he'd told me, anyway- but it must have been some horrible space alien language." Dib pretended to shudder, and he gestured to the "cut" on his head. "I got this by dodging a claw to the face- well, sort of dodging, as you can see- and I ran for my life down the street. Lost him by jumping a few fences. I got this as I was fleeing though because I knew you wouldn't just take my word for it." Dib finished, and pulled his cell out of his pocket.

Opening up the picture and passing it over to the teacher, he hoped it would seem real enough to-

"My god...I knew I was right! And with this proof, I can capture the alien and see him exterminated!" The economics teacher interrupted his thoughts and became steadily more excited like a child at Christmas being handed an enormous present, and Dib silently resented the fact that the teacher sounded now like he himself had a few years ago. Accepting the phone back, Dib hid a smirk. The picture had been great fun to take, in reality; he'd had Zim's computer project an image of the street and made Zim take off his wig and have one contact falling out a little as he was chased, and he'd shot the photo over his shoulder to make it seem like he'd been running away with Zim in an enraged pursuit.

"Come on Dib, we have to show the world!" Mr. Ernhart declared with a passion, grabbing his light brown corduroy jacket off an old looking coatstand in the corner and racing for the door.

"WAIT!" Dib yelled, blocking the way. "He may still be out there looking for me- he doesn't know I came here yet. We can go to his base and capture him for real. He's fast, but he's really not that strong- a rope or something similar would be more than enough to keep him restrained." Another lie. From the way Zim was able to pick him up by the back of his shirt and haul him through his base in a rage, Dib knew the alien possessed uncanny strength for such a slight frame.

"Why can't we just go show this to somebody important?" Mr. Ernhart paused with his hand on the doorknob and asked logically, pointing to Dib's phone and adjusting his small round glasses.

Dib shook his head despondently. "Because nobody will believe us. We're going to need more proof than a "potentially photoshopped" cell phone image." he reasoned, congratulating himself as Ernhart thought about it and nodded sagely in agreement. "Zim's probably already on the way back to his base to use some weird alien technology to track me down. We need to leave discreetly in a car and park up the road from his house if we're to have any chance at surprising him."

"Why not prepare for a while and go at night?" Mr. Ernhart asked, narrowing his eyes at Dib.

"Do you _want_ him to get away? Because if _I _was him, and _I _knew my identity had been revealed, I'd be wanting to get as far away as possible. Like, _Sri Lanka _far. We'd never find him again." Dib pointed out, relieved when Ernhart immediately saw truth in the statement and relaxed again.

Dib talked strategy with the man, and the two swapped ideas and battle plans for a few minutes. Mr. Ernhart seemed so excited he could burst, while Dib tried to maintain a grave countenance; he needed to act upset at the fact that his friend had turned out to be an alien and it was now his moral duty to capture him, after all.

Unbeknown to Ernhart, a mile or so away Zim was attentively listening to every word through a microscopic transmitter attached to Dib's ear and planning his counterattack accordingly.

Dib damn near pat himself on the back with glee at his incredible acting skills as Ernhart led him through the house and to his garage while babbling on about his suspicions concerning Zim, where an unremarkable small black pickup was parked. Dib took a look around the dimly lit warm room noting a few alien posters here and there, and where most people had a tennis ball strung from the ceiling to tell them when to stop pulling their cars in, a little saucer dangled at the end of a rope instead.

"Secret alien enthusiast, huh? Is that why you suspected Zim when no one else did?" Dib asked curiously, poking the saucer carefully and watching it wobble while waiting for Ernhart to take out his keys and unlock the vehicle.

"Yes. I keep it to myself because a lot of people aren't interested in that sort of stuff, but everyone has their obsessions. Mine happens to be unearthly life forms." Mr. Ernhart opened the driver door and got in, flipping the lock so Dib could climb in as well. Pressing the button on a remote attached to his sun visor, he continued as the garage creaked open with a grating metal sound. "I mean, with such an incredible cosmos out there, there _has_ to be more- and I was right." The teacher brought the engine roaring to life and backed out into the driveway, sparing a second to glance at Dib. "I'm glad I'm not in this alone, Dib. Thank you for coming around and choosing me to go to for help- together we'll be famous."

Dib felt sickened, but nodded and smiled melancholically. This teacher practically _was_ him from a short time ago. If his intentions concerning Zim had been more scientifically inquisitive than they were hostile, Dib might have felt far worse about leading a minimum wage government employee to have their memory altered. But as things stood, Mr. Ernhart seemed geared more towards fame than he did science- and that just wasn't right.

_"Not right? And when were __**you**__ ever justified?" _A small voice argued in the back of Dib's head.

Dib stubbornly looked out the window to hide his inner monologue from showing on his face. _"Hey, I was always justified! Zim was trying to destroy my planet! It only became unjustified the day he swore he was no longer intent on conquering Earth- the same day we started tolerating each other's presence."_ He argued back with himself. Sure, he felt guilty for wanting to capture and dissect Zim in the past now that they were friends, but back when his planet was at stake and Zim was just as hostile to Dib, it had been perfectly acceptable to want to defend one's own home.

Dib prayed Zim had prepared according to what he'd heard, or else an unnecessarily difficult struggle would probably be in order. Mr. Ernhart was by no means a bodybuilder, but he definitely had more muscle behind him than the lanky teenage boy.

The cul de sac crept into view as the black truck rounded a corner and immediately parked by the curb, engine idling softly.

Dib leaned forward on the dashboard and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Ok, Mr. Ernhart. See those lawn gnomes?" he began.

"Yes...?" The teacher left the response hanging, clearly unsure as to why the little green men with hats mattered.

"They've _got_ to be spy thingies, I'm sure of it. Every time I walked up that path I swore I could feel them turning to watch me- and now I'm positive that's exactly what they were doing." Dib continued, pointing out the four evenly spaced gnomes. "If we can sneak around their blind spots, I can jimmy the lock on the door to get us in."

"That's a great feat of juvenile delinquency Dib, but how do we know Zim won't be waiting for us inside?" Mr. Ernhart frowned, clearly not liking the idea of breaking right in.

Dib huffed as though it was obvious. "He's got to have all his alien stuff underground- it definitely couldn't fit upstairs. Zim would be where he feels safest; with his technology." He rationalized, trying to win the teacher over. "We've got to act _now_. He came here one day out of the blue when I was in elementary skool, and I imagine he could leave just as quickly."

Mr. Ernhart sighed, but steel entered his eyes as he killed the engine and squared his shoulders. "Ok, Dib. You make some really good points, you know. Let's do this." The teacher cracked open the door and went to set a foot on the ground, but halted and looked over his shoulder at Dib imploringly. "Oh, and if things don't go too well, you don't know anything."

Dib immediately scoffed at that. "_I_ don't know anything? Sir, if anything bad happens, _neither_ of us know anything." He was rewarded by a trusting smile from the teacher, and Dib tried to shove down his discomfort at seeing the teacher turn back towards the odd green and purple base with a hungry expression. Mr. Ernhart reached into the bed of the truck and pulled out a length of yellow braided rope and stuffed it into the pocket of his jacket, and Dib prayed in the back of his mind that the teacher's chance to use it would never come if all went well.

Walking quietly down the sidewalk next to and in front of the teacher, Dib motioned to crouch down next to him in front of the short white picket fence when they set foot into the perimeter of Zim's yard. Dib made a "Ssh" motion, and peered up over the fence. Pretending to study the gnomes carefully, Dib mapped out the route he already knew contained blind spots and made another motion for the instructor to follow his lead. Together they weaved around the security net, and just to convince Mr. Ernhart a little more, Dib purposely put his foot in sight of one of the gnomes. Immediately a laser shot out, and Dib pulled his foot away with expert timing to avoid a most painful laser wound. Pausing a second to let the incident sink in, he looked over his shoulder.

Ernhart was staring at the charred spot on the ground in wonder, and when he saw Dib giving him a slightly fearful expression, he nodded a nod of great understanding. They were alone in this, hunting down an alien menace together. Dib gave a solemn nod in return, and faced forward again so he could openly smile in success. hopping over a gnome's line of sight to the front porch step, Dib rooted around in his trench coat pocket and pulled out a source of torque made from a filed down Allen wrench, and an improvised pick made from a thick paperclip.

He heard Mr. Ernhart let out a low noise of what sounded like disappointment as he inserted the items and began to fiddle with the pins, and he knew the teacher was probably questioning why in the world Dib knew how to lockpick. Of course, telling him he'd learned from breaking into Zim's house at least a hundred times before was out of the question, so he merely mouthed over his shoulder "Hobby. Like your aliens." and watched the teacher's expression clear a little.

A quiet click sounded as Dib turned the wrench after setting all the pins into place, and he opened the door cautiously and poked his head in, keeping up the charade of a boy breaking into an alien's stronghold and being scared for his life about it. Zim had set the mood quite convincingly; it was ominously dark inside, the only light coming from an odd glow under the couch (clearly a clue left to point Dib in the right direction). Dib knew of this secret entrance to the lower levels, but he had never used it and didn't know where it led- he could only hope it dropped them off somewhere he recognized within the labyrinth of Zim's base. Pulling his head back out, he gave a thumbs up to Ernhart and opened the door fully and stepped inside, making room for the teacher to vault over the gnomey danger to the stoop. Mr. Ernhart also surveyed the room before entering, and he shut the door quietly behind them and gaped at the light from under the couch.

"I think that indicates something strange." The teacher said at barely the volume of a whisper and Dib nodded, raven hair shifting quietly with the motion.

The two of them tip-toed over to the couch, and Dib took up a position on the opposite side of Ernhart. Together they expended a massive amount of effort moving the heavy furniture as quietly as possible, and Dib felt his flimsy biceps burning as they set it down at last. Walking around the back of the couch, Dib and Ernhart stared down the chute at the floating elevator platform that rested a foot or so below the floor level. The odd glow filtered from around the sides of the disc coming from some point far below, and Dib tried to think of what room they might be above. Stepping forward slowly, he got down onto his stomach and silently slid himself down a foot to avoid thunking onto the platform. Mr. Ernhart copied him, and Dib looked around stupidly even though he knew from experience the button for it was likely on the wall nearby.

It was Ernhart who shook Dib's shoulder and pointed to the button, and Dib smiled at the assistance and pushed it. The disc began descending in response, and Dib tried his best to look every bit as tense and worried as Ernhart was. "You have the rope, so you'll need to be the one who jumps him. I'll stay a few feet ahead of you as we explore so that if we run into him, he won't notice you. I'm counting on you to get him when the time is right- don't leave me hanging." Dib whispered, and Ernhart nodded and clapped him on the back assuringly.

At last the elevator hit rock bottom and the door slid open with a quiet "Fsss" of air. Dib pushed Ernhart against the side of the elevator and peeped around the edge, and when he saw nothing, he peeled himself off the wall and slowly proceeded down the dimly lit hall with Ernhart tagging along a small distance behind. The ever present white noise of electricity buzzing and machines whirring sounded throughout the halls, and an occasional maniacal laugh was heard coming from the air ducts- Gir, no doubt.

Dib had to admit, this felt almost like when he and Zim were enemies again. Sneaking through the base, heart pounding, no idea where the hidden threat was and what could be waiting for him around every turn...it was enough to set his blood boiling and have his adrenaline kick in. He really didn't know where Zim was or what he was planning, so Dib knew staying alert for any signals from the Irken was a must. Teacher and student padded through the halls as noiselessly as they could manage, and Dib made a show of pressing against the wall at times and slowly looking around corners to keep Mr. Ernhart on edge. This was Zim's territory. _This _was the danger zone. Every square inch of it.

At last he caught one: an almost imperceptible swish of a wire in the ceiling off a passageway leading to the right. Dib ducked down that hallway, and kept his head facing straight even though his eyes were plastered to the ceiling for any more movements to direct his course. They came at every turn the humans encountered, and Dib made it seem as though he was navigating purely by luck as best he could. At one point he even started down a wrong hallway purposely, before acting like he heard something and reversing direction down the path Zim clearly desired.

Together, the two mastermind spiders lured their fly to become ever more ensnared within their web.

Soon the swishing wires led the two of them into a room. The space was large, and contained rows upon rows of large glass tubes filled with a disturbing green amniotic-looking fluid that bubbled gently and provided the ambient light that barely lit the room. In one of them floated a glassy eyed sedated dog, and Dib reminded himself to scold the alien later and have him release the poor animal from whatever brain scan was being run upon it, from the looks of the multitude of cables suction cupped to its head. A couple different animals floated in similar fashions in other tubes; frogs, a cow, some cats, an excessive amount of chickens, that happy Nick child with the brain probe...man, Dib would really need to speak to Zim about experimenting on living things.

As he walked down the rows of floating lifeforms, Dib realized he should be acting a little bit more disturbed rather than merely annoyed by all of this, so he backed up a few paces and whispered to the darkness he knew the teacher was hiding in, "Geez, this is sick. Killing innocent animals." Dib gestured to the very much alive animals (but Ernhart didn't know that) in disgust. He heard a barely audible "Yeah. Let's keep looking." from behind him, and he nodded in agreement and crept forward more.

At the end of the room was a shut door, and off to the side was a table with restraints clearly built for a human. Dib gave a hand wave at the door to signal the teacher should follow him, and Dib crossed the room and stepped up to it.

Before he could so much as place his palm over the panel that would cause the door to slide open, all hell broke loose.

A deep male scream from behind him had him whirling around, and he saw a scuffle occurring in the open space between the undisguised Zim and Mr. Ernhart, who was managing to put up a decent fight and trying to take the rope out of his pocket.

_"Zim! He has a rope!"_ Dib hissed quietly, hoping Zim would hear his warning through the transmitter still on his ear. The Irken proved his theory a moment later when the rope was kicked from Mr. Ernhart's hand and sent skidding across the floor and against a wall with a thud, and Zim extended himself up to an impressive height upon his spider legs.

Mr. Ernhart paled at seeing the creature suspended above him. Dib tended to agree; Zim was definitely a sight not to be taken lightly. He was snarling ferally, and Dib could hear the noise even from his place by the door. His eyes gleamed like pools of blood in the dim light as he glared at the human who dared to try and expose him, and his antennae were pinned back flat against his skull in anger. His gloves and boots were also off, allowing him free use of the deadly sharp digits each possessed, respectively.

Dib shivered; _this_ was the combat trained, killing machine Zim he was glad he'd never had to face.

While Ernhart and Zim squared off, Dib slunk his way along the wall closer to the rope, inch by inch. Eventually he was within grabbing distance, and he scraped it toward him with the toe of a boot and flipped it up into his hands. Frantically tying a slipknot, Dib chucked the rope on the ground near the fight.

_"Zim! Zim, get him to put both of his feet within that circle! Its a trap!"_ Dib whispered urgently again, and he saw the Irken's antennae twitch in his direction, confirming his instructions had been heard. Quickly Dib saw a change in the direction of the battle; Zim had gone on the defensive, easily dodging punches thrown from the teacher in a frightened haste, leading him closer and closer to the rope on the ground. Dib crouched in the shadows with the end of the rope clenched between his fingers, and he waited.

Time seemed to slow down when Mr. Ernhart stepped first one, and then two feet inside the circle. With a cry, Dib pulled the rope with all the force his not-very-muscular arms could produce, and the teacher crashed to the ground with his ankles bound. Time then went from being slow to being frozen.

Mr. Ernhart looked over at Dib with a betrayed and angry expression, Zim looked triumphant and calm at the human lying still on the floor, and Dib stared back at Ernhart like a deer in headlights.

And then time resumed, seeming doubly fast.

"DIB! What the _hell_ are you doing! I thought...!" the teacher spluttered in an outrage, moving into a defensive sitting posture as best he could and glaring daggers at the boy.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Ernhart. Really!" Dib pleaded, feeling like a dirty traitor now that the deed was done. But he didn't regret it; this had to be done for Zim's sake. "But we're not going to do anything bad to you! Zim just wanted to wipe your memory so you didn't suspect him anymore. That's it." Dib squeaked quickly, watching the man's gaze harden considerably.

"Oh, _only_ going to wipe out my memory, huh? I'd say that sounds pretty bad." Mr. Ernhart repeated sourly, keeping an eye on Zim who had yet to move other than to retract his spider legs and cross his arms with an irritated huff.

"Well...not, like, _all_ of it. Just, you know. The stuff about Zim being an alien." Dib said lamely, sighing when Ernhart's expression remained the same. "Look, I can't let you destroy the only friend I've ever made. He doesn't deserve to be killed and cut open any more than you do. Zim's not a bad person...usually. " Dib added, ignoring the Irken's growl of disagreement.

Mr. Ernhart's expression finally changed, but it wasn't into one Dib liked any better. His mouth set into a flat line, but a small quirk at one end revealed the tiniest of smiles. "Its a shame, Dib. I really was going to let you in on some of my fame, but it seems you don't want such a marvelous thing. I'll miss you- I'd always heard you were a rather bright boy."

Dib frowned in confusion and opened his mouth to question the teacher, but ended up slack jawed with terror as the teacher pulled a small handgun from one of his back pockets and aimed it directly at Dib's head.

"Human, look out!" Zim screeched, and Dib retained enough mental function to know he should duck. _Now_.

A shot rang out, and Dib felt a breeze as the bullet that would have ended his life passed by harmlessly overhead. Looking back up, he saw Zim was again locked in struggle on the ground with the now considerably more dangerous teacher and the two were fighting to wrestle the gun away.

Dib's mind worked rapidly, processing any possible ways to resolve the situation, and he looked up into the mass of wires on the ceiling as an idea struck him. "Computer! Do something to render that human unconscious- NOW!" Dib bellowed, and a beeping noise satisfied him that the computer had acknowledged his request. Diverting his attention back to the battle, Dib saw that Zim had lost most of his grip on Ernhart's gun hand, and the teacher was pulling back an arm he'd freed to slug the Irken away. Zim staggered back a few steps at the impact, grunting at the pain the blow had doubtlessly inflicted while Ernhart reached down and saved time and effort by shooting the slipknot off his ankles with a single well-placed bullet.

"No!" Dib howled, and without thinking he launched himself at the teacher. His attack wasn't good for much more than surprising the man as Dib pounced on his back and clung tight, and Ernhart danced around with the extra weight and attempted to aim a good shot at the teenager. By then Zim had recovered, and boy was he _pissed_.

"_No one_ touches an Irken elite invader. _NO ONE_." Zim said in a threateningly low voice, and raised himself up on his spider legs and prepared to charge, the flame of battle alight in his red eyes.

"What about him? Am I allowed to hurt him?"

Mr. Ernhart's calm countenance made the alien freeze and do a double take of the situation.

Dib had his pathetic little nubby human teeth buried deeply in the man's shoulder through two layers of clothes, but he held still and wide eyed at the barrel of the gun that was pointed between his eyes.

"Dib, kid, that hurts. Let go." Mr. Ernhart said in a too-happy tone of voice, and Dib slowly stopped biting the teacher's shoulder and dropped to the ground, the gun following him the entire way.

A sigh of disappointment echoed around the metallic room as the teacher shook his head sadly. "Now, this turned out the exact opposite of how I wanted it to go. Because you see Dib, I'd be in a real pickle if I killed you. You may be unpopular, and no one may care about you, but you're still a human. Police, investigation, blah blah blah." Mr. Ernhart said flippantly. "That, and I really don't want to. I'm not a psycho- I don't _want_ to shoot another person. Not a kid, no less. But him..." The teacher paused for emphasis, sliding his eyes over to look at Zim who remained still as a statue upon his metallic legs. "Him I wouldn't mind killing. And I wouldn't get in trouble for it, either." The spectacled man said simply, and Dib remained silent.

Taking the silence as an invitation to carry on, Ernhart drew another deep breath. "So, here's what I'll do. I'm going to let go of you, and then shoot him. Then you're going to get out of here before I change my mind about letting you leave, and I'm never to hear from you again- mostly because I'll be rich and famous, but also because you'd have no proof of anything so telling your story would be tragically pointless." Mr. Ernhart said chillingly, and Dib could only nod numbly.

"Good. First things first, then. Any last words, Zim?" The teacher asked chipperly, and Zim hissed with hatred.

"Yes, you _smelly pile of ass filth_. You are absolutely pathetic at teaching." The alien ground out as his line of sight focused on something behind them, and Dib felt Mr. Ernhart clench up with fury. Dib was released, and the gun was pointed at Zim.

Zim remained motionless with a look of disgust plastered across his face as the man's trigger finger tightened.

A look which immediately changed to horror once Dib tossed himself in the bullet's path with a wordless roar of denial.

* * *

Don't hate me- its not over yet. I promise. You can hate me for the cliffhanger, but that's about it lol. So, like I said, really long chapter with a lot of action. So I'd like a lot of people to submit reviews, because this ride is almost over and if you haven't so far, now is a great time to jump in with _anything at all_. Even a "Yay" or something is appreciated :) And thank you OODLES to my repeat reviewers- you know who you are, and I promise, so do I; and I love you guys for it :3 Keep it up!


	9. The Calm After the Storm

SEE MY PAGE FOR AN ANNOUNCEMENT CONCERNING PROJECT MASSIVE AND POSSIBLY GETTING IZ BACK ON THE AIR WITH NEW EPISODES!

And now, the final chapter. I hope I met all expectations. Enjoy :)

* * *

For Zim, a multitude of images from his Pak's memory bank were thrust upon him at lightning speed in the space of that one terrible second.

Images from years ago when he'd first arrived of a younger, shorter Dib pointing out his false nature the second they locked eyes. Of Dib and Zim working together when Tak endangered the Earth. Of Dib a few years later throwing a paper ball at his head that read "You smell."Dib having one of their typical screaming contests with him in the courtyard. Dib with the bruise painted on his face that filled the Irken with an incomprehensible anger for some reason.

And most recently, Dib's expression in the living room when he agreed to help Zim in order to save him.

Through the haze of red that misted the corners of his vision, Zim could only see the pile of black clothing on the ground in an unmoving heap, and the slightly smoking end of the gun as Mr. Ernhart lowered it and stared at the downed teen with an amazed expression.

A growl ripped through the room loud enough to cause the man to actually flinch, and he looked up from where his gaze was regretfully traveling over Dib to see an elite Irken Invader giving him a glare so full of hatred and wrath that he felt something deep within him shrink up in a cold wash of pure fear.

In the half a second it took Ernhart to even process the fact that he should shoot the alien next, the Zim was bounding forward. Ernhart pulled the gun up to take aim, but it was smacked out of his hand with enough force to break two of his fingers as Zim...flew past him?

Turning a 180, Mr. Ernhart came face to face with an unbelievably pissed off alien gripping a sparking tazer so hard shavings of plastic fell to the floor from where his claws left deadly scores in the grip. Gulping, the teacher took a few paces back.

_"Click click. Click click." _The sound of Zim's spider legs rhythmically striking the cold metal floor resounded dolefully throughout the room, and Mr. Ernhart stopped retreating only when he felt a wall at his back halt his progress. Two fiery orbs of red narrowed into enraged slits, and before the teacher could so much as open his mouth to plead for _anything_, the tazer was jabbed harshly into his side.

Zim stood up slowly from the barely conscious form, and flicked the tazer off and placed it in a pocket. Odd that his computer hadn't provided him with technology of Irken make, but Zim wasn't complaining; these human "tazers" were more than adequate for his needs. Kicking the twitching form at his feet, he heard a muffled groan eke forth. Making a disgusted and loathful expression, Zim hoisted the human up by the back of his corduroy jacket and dragged him over to the restraint table off to the side. Tossing the man onto it haphazardly and clapping the irons shut around his ankles and wrists, Zim finally turned back to what really mattered- the Dib.

The Dib who had dragged himself into a slumping position reminiscent of actual sitting, and was somehow managing to bear a countenance of both incredible pain...and...amusement!

"Wow Zim, I didn't know you cared so much. How sweet." The human bit out sarcastically, wincing as he moved his left arm.

"But you...not moving...Z-Zim thought..." Zim stuttered in pieces between the thoughts crashing in his head at a million miles an hour.

"Yeah, I wasn't moving because I freaking got _shot_." Dib snorted, ceasing the action after it made him grimace. "You didn't seriously expect me to get shot and pop right back up with a cheery greeting card, did you? By the time you'd downed him I'd only just processed that I'd been shot at all." Dib remarked, looking over at the mostly still form on the table.

"So, Dib is alright?" Zim questioned stupidly, still unable to comprehend the human wasn't lying dead in a puddle of his own blood on the floor.

"Are you _high_? " Dib asked incredulously, eyebrows raising. "I just got shot by a gun, and you're asking if I'm _alright_?"

"Eh...Zim meant..." The Irken tried to amend, but was cut off by a wave of Dib's right hand.

"Its fine, I know what you meant. He got me in the arm, obviously. And, not to sound like a total wimp to the almighty Invader Zim, but it kind of hurts like hell." Dib admitted, and Zim noticed for the first time that the boy's pallor complexion was even whiter than it normally was. Sliding his eyes down a little, he frowned at the red spots on the floor and the wet looking patch on Dib's trench coat sleeve that he knew was blood seeping through.

Heh. And Dib really liked that coat, too.

Retracting his spider legs and walking over to Dib, Zim bent down and tried to assess the damage. Shaking his head after a moment, Zim reported "Dib, I can't see anything. You're going to have to get your coat off if I'm to judge whether I can help you here or if I should ship you to a hospital."

"Aw no, anything but a hospital!" Dib groaned, but acquiesced to Zim's demand when he was met with only a hard and silent stare from his counterpart.

Peeling off the coat with a great deal of cringing and hissing in agony, Dib rolled up his sleeve to let Zim get the best view of the wound possible in the faint greenish light. The Irken frowned at the bullet hole in Dib's pathetic excuse for a bicep which still bled stubbornly, and weighed his options.

"Computer! Bring to Zim the sleepy mask thingy." Zim commanded, and within seconds a clear face shield-looking contraption fell through the ceiling and into his waiting hand. Tugging at some of the lines leading to a small canister fussily, he knelt beside Dib who was giving the device a distrustful look.

"This will knock you out long enough for my computer to remove the bullet without you screaming your foolish head off like a poop monkey." Zim explained and Dib nodded, still looking unhappy. "In the meantime, I'll take care of _this one_." Zim hissed, clearly insinuating the teacher. Pressing the mask over Dib's face hurriedly when he noticed his shirt sleeve and arm turning a brilliant crimson color without the trench coat to soak it up, Zim broke his gaze with the dark red blood when Dib poked an antenna imploringly. Twitching it out of the human's reach, Zim watched Dib attempt to form a coherent sentence as he drew in a breath of the sleep inducing fumes.

"Don't kill him. Or maim him. Or anything else particularly evil. Just wipe his memory, and have Gir fly him home or something." Dib instructed firmly despite the gas's effects, watching the Irken grit his teeth in disappointment before grumbling a reluctant "Very well, human."

Dib nodded at the alien's forced sounding agreement, and within a few more breaths, was out stone cold on the floor.

Zim waved vaguely in the air, and muttered "Computer, deal with Dib. You know what to do." and received an uncharacteristically cooperative response of "Ok." Dib was carefully carried up into the ceiling by a few claws, where he would doubtlessly be taken to a more well lit and sterile area for the computer to pull the bullet out.

Striding tensely up to Mr. Ernhart who was beginning to recover from his shock induced stupor, Zim typed a few things into a panel on the wall. A prehensile tube with a rather large suction cup on the end slid out of a hole in the floor, and Zim grabbed it and slammed it onto the man's cranium none too gently. Turning his back to the teacher- who's mere image made him quiver with rage and the desire to avenge- Zim began keying in erase commands to the system.

"Tell Dib I'm sorry."

The unexpected request had Zim spinning around in surprise and vexation, and examining the remorseful sounding teacher. Zim turned the request over in his mind, and narrowed his ruby colored eyes and flattened his antennae.

"Perhaps." he answered at last, and hit a button on the console decisively. A buzzing noise was heard, and Mr. Ernhart was quickly reduced to a temporary drooling moron.

Staring hostilely down at his opponent, Zim had to hold himself back from tearing out the man's throat with his bare claws. How _dare_ this human injure his Dib-friend, even if it was accidental? He was hardly worth sparing. Placing a claw point at the man's throat, Zim halted, remembering Dib's insistent request.

_"Rrrgh, stupid dirt child and his stupid sentiment... hmph. Whatever. This teacher will be a bother no further regardless." _Zim thought, taking his deadly natural weapon away from the instructor's pulse point. Not wishing to disturb the computer, Zim pulled his communicator out of his Pak. A few seconds of status ensued, until Gir picked up the line with a high-pitched "Weeeee!"

How very long ago it seemed that he was stuck in the middle of nowhere atop a tree, trying to get in touch with this same insane robot minion.

"Gir. This is important- come down to the Earth Smell Creature Brain Scan Room. Immediately." Zim tacked on, hoping Gir was heading the right way when the screen went fuzzy after he heard the sound of rocket boosters being activated.

A few minutes passed with Ernhart mumbling incoherent things that only increased Zim's ire, until the door behind him blew open and Gir tumbled in head over feet screaming and on fire.

Ignoring the typical occurrence, Zim crossed his arms. "Gir, I need you to fly this human to his home. The address is in his wallet, I'm sure." The android threw his arms up into the air with a shriek of excitement and danced in a giddy circle, taking no notice of the flames still licking around him. Zim raised a nonexistent eyebrow at the conflagration, but continued. "Make sure you invent a TRULY INGENIOUS story on your way there so his suspicions about me are not raised again. Mention _nothing_ of aliens."

Gir froze for a moment and stared into nothingness with his bright cyan gaze, before abruptly flying at his master and sucking on a corner of his head while kicking his feet around. Zim's claws twitched in annoyance. "NOW, GIR!" he yelled, and the robot obediently dropped off his head and saluted, toddling over to the table. Fire finally dying out, Gir pressed the button to open the restraints with his head and giggled as he made a "boooop" noise. The irons clicked open, and the android picked the man up by one of his arms and blasted off through the base with him, a sandwich and piece of half eaten toast falling to the ground in his wake from some compartment who-knew-where.

Zim looked around the room, surveying the damage. Scratches from both his real and fake pairs of feet adorned the floor, and scuffs from Dib's boots and Ernhart's shoes had left black marks here and there. A bullet hole punched through the wall where Dib's head had almost been, and another through the floor when the teacher had shot off the rope ensnaring his feet. That same stupid feeble rope lay discarded a distance from the fight area where the teacher had tossed it, and Zim huffed. At least repairs would be minimal. And miraculously enough none of his testing tubes had been shattered, and its animal tenants slept on peacefully, blissfully unaware of the struggle for life that had taken place mere feet from them. And then of course, there was the most unsightly puddle of the Dib stink's blood...

Clicking over to it, Zim stopped just before his toes could touch the edge of the pool. The Irken frowned while looking at the reflective red surface, deep in thought; he'd never drawn the Dib's blood before. Well, not intentionally and with incredible malice, anyway. Any scrapes either of them had ever obtained had been during typical battles for Earth, and were thought little of and vanished within days. This was different however, and the sight of his human friend's blood on the floor set Zim on edge.

Assuming his computer had finished with Dib by now, Zim directed his gaze from the puddle to the ceiling. "Computer? Status."

"6:28 PM, mildly sunny out. Temperature is a balmy 88 degrees Fahrenheit, only a 13% chance of afternoon showers, and-"

"Not that, you fool! The Dib." Zim interrupted, tapping his two toes impatiently.

"Ohhh. He's asleep." The computer supplied unhelpfully.

"And...?" Zim prodded, annoyed that the system's temporary obedience had flown out the window in the span of a few minutes.

"Bullet removal successful. Wound sterilized and opening cauterized to prevent infection. Wound dressed. Pain medication administered via IV. Vitals normal, disregarding the obvious low blood levels."

"_Thank you, _computer. And would you mind removing this...this... eyesore? I will attend to the rest later personally. I need to check that dog's brain scans anyway." Zim directed while gesturing to the red mess, and turned an about face and began marching to the only room it would make sense for the computer to have stored Dib in; the house level.

Rising up on the elevator, Zim felt an uncomfortable sensation in his squeedly spooch as it drew closer to the ground floor. Pushing it aside for the time being, Zim stepped out of the open trashcan and onto the linoleum with a loud clack of pointy claws. Irritated at the noise, Zim tucked them under a little and walked on the joint just before his claws so his steps were more of a muffled padding. Moving a little more quietly now into the living room, he leaned against the doorframe and watched the scene before him for a moment.

Dib sat on the couch in a hunched over manner with his chin in his hand contemplatively, blue and slightly bloody shirt draped over his shoulder, making the white bandage around his limp arm stand out all the more against his bare skin. The position allowed his good arm to reach down and move a checker piece while Gir sat across from him on the floor, actually seeming to _think_ before also moving a piece, jumping two of Dib's in a row in the process. Hm, that had been an awfully fast trip, the Irken noted. Hopefully Gir had found the right place.

"Hey, no fair! You're like a small computer. Man, I never even had a chance." Dib complained indignantly as the robot giggled and ate his captured checkers. Dib huffed in response, but leaned back over the board and pushed his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose as he studied the layout. The setting sunlight from the now unshuttered windows washed over the boy and the robot, painting the room in a not unwholesome looking gold. Zim would have preferred red, but eh; the nice burnt gold color would do.

Deciding then would be a perfectly rude instant to interrupt, Zim untucked his toes again as he clicked into the room, breaking Dib's concentration.

A vague "Hey." was all the alien received in the form of a greeting as Dib immediately looked back down at the board with a crease in his forehead as he thought. Zim lowered his antennae in annoyance; he despised being ignored, and Dib knew it.

"One second your _mightiness_, I just need to...AHA!" Dib interrupted himself with an exclamation of triumph as he hopped one of Gir's pieces and landed himself in a safe spot. His proud expression drooped a second later when Gir returned the favor, and the robot smiled inanely.

"Big head's turn." He said, and Dib spluttered a little.

"My head is NOT big! And my name is Dib. D-I-B. Dib. Even Zim gets it right once and a while."

Zim spluttered a little at this in return, crossing his arms. "Insolent mud child." the Irken snapped, and Dib made a "see what I mean?" sort of gesture at him.

Gir seemed to be thinking quite hard about the name change for a moment, before one of his eyes popped out a little more than the other and he declared happily "Big-head Dib."

Dib facepalmed with a ragged sigh, but shook his head and shrugged it off. Good enough. Moving another piece, Dib scooted over some and patted the space on the sofa beside him, never taking his eyes off the board as Gir also moved a checker into a seemingly useless place. Zim stalked over and sat down stiffly, and now that he was in a closer proximity to the Earthling, something that demanded his attention simply needed to be said.

"Human. Your overwhelming whiteness is blinding my superior sight."

Dib rolled his eyes and pulled the shirt off his shoulder and fwapped it around in Zim's face. "See this?"

Zim nodded, ducking away from the blood-smelling shirt.

"See how it's all _bloody_?"

"Yes, Dib beast, Zim has eyes. He can see this."

Dib snorted, but slung the shirt back over his shoulder. "No way am I putting it back on."

"Ugh. You picky smell worm. Computer?" Zim called reluctantly, knowing the AI system would likely put up a fight.

Silence greeted him, and just before he could make his request again a blue rolled up T shirt was shot out of a hole in the wall and smacked Zim in the face. Grumbling, the alien in turn tossed it at Dib who accepted it and unrolled it.

"Zim...it says "I love Earth." Why do you even have this?" Dib asked, looking askance at the shirt.

"Stop complaining. It certainly suits you more than I anyway, you pathetic Earth lover." Zim shot back, watching as Dib gave it a final once-over before shrugging and carefully pulling it on.

Now that his eye sockets weren't bleeding from the Dib's awful pastiness, Zim began to watch the game progress with only mild interest. The Irken's thoughts were elsewhere; namely on the memory of Dib being shot. His Pak seemed insistent on replaying the event over and over in his head, and Zim felt something tug a little harder at his squeedly spooch each time. _"Why couldn't I have disarmed the human sooner?" _Zim berated himself as he watched Gir hop another two of Dib's checkers due to the move he'd made several turns ago, and the Irken tuned out Dib's complaints. _"I am a mighty Irken Invader. I should have been able to stop that from even happening...perhaps Zim is losing his touch..."_ The alien went on pensively in his mind, and the memory re-ran itself for what must have been the eightieth time. Holding back a growl, Zim pinpointed what the feeling was: guilt.

"Hey, Zim. It wasn't your fault you know."

Zim jerked his head towards the human, but Dib still had his attention glued to the game. Had Dib developed psychic powers?

"I know you feel responsible; its written all over your face. That, and your antennae are kinded at a funny angle. So I'm telling you- it's not your fault. There's nothing you could have done differently to have changed anything." Dib added, finally cutting a glance at Zim from the corner of his eye.

"But... if I had simply not involved you, then surely-"

"Then surely you'd be in a bunch of little pieces, floating separately in some nice labeled jars in a chilled storage room somewhere." Dib intoned flatly, and Zim closed his mouth to cut off the retort forming on the tip of his segmented tongue. The human was _right_. Mr. Ernhart would surely have gotten to the Irken eventually had they not nipped the problem in the bud together like they had.

"I...suppose. But Zim's squeedly spooch is still making him feel odd." The Irken conceded, nudging Dib and pointing out a good move against his own minion.

Dib scoffed and took the move Zim had given him, and Gir pouted and stamped his little metal feet a bit before hugging his rubber piggy tightly and refocusing on the game. "Heh, that lovely sensation is guilt. It'll go away soon, if you just keep telling yourself it wasn't your fault. Because it really wasn't, you know." Dib advised, and Zim nodded slowly.

"Although, if you really feel _that_ badly about it, want to know how to make it up to me?" The human asked deviously, and Zim leaned away a little with a suspicious expression.

"Perhaps...?"

* * *

"Oh man, this is awesome!"

Dib's voice reverberated within the cockpit of Zim's Voot Cruiser as the Irken piloted it nonchalantly past Saturn. Pressing his face against the glass so hard Zim was surprised it didn't permanently become flat, Dib openly gawked at the planets they passed at a speed so uncomprehendable Dib's mind boggled. "Zim, this is the coolest thing ever!"

"Eh, it is a sight I am much accustomed to. But yes, space can be pretty neat sometimes." Zim affirmed, glad the knot in his organs had gone away the minute Dib's face lit up with excitement at seeing Zim's cruiser resting in the fake attic.

"Hey Zim, can I fly this?"

The question was posed innocently enough, but Zim still had to hold back a cackle. "Human, piloting a cruiser takes more than moving a joystick around. Haven't you ever noticed I can direct the ship without needing to touch it most times?"

Dib looked a little crestfallen but nodded, bearing with Zim's explanation.

"An Irken ship is attuned to its owner's brainwaves, in a way. It knows what I want without me having to physically tell it."

"Oh." Dib said, but then something occurred to him. "Hey, but you've got to have a manual flight mode, right? Can I try that?"

Zim opened his mouth to interject a firm "No.", but upon thinking the request over, decided harm couldn't come from it as long as he kept the speed capped.

So, mumbling to himself in irritated Irken, Zim tapped a few buttons and a control post shot out of the space ship's equivalent of a dashboard. Pointing to each of the buttons individually, Zim listed them off as if to a mentally incompetent person. "Go. Stop. Up. Down. Left. Right. And that's really all you need to know. The Voot is capable of much more complicated maneuvers, but for now this is all you get."

Dib practically hummed with anticipation as he took Zim's place and gingerly pressed the go button. The cruiser sped forward towards Jupiter at a manageable speed, and Dib whooped and tested out some of the other buttons. The result was the craft doing an odd jerky dance in the emptiness of space with a bunch of "Whoo!"s and "Yeah!"s echoing forth, but Zim cracked a secret smile; the human was having a blast.

Eventually Zim directed Dib back to Earth, stating that he needed time before the next skool day to clean up the mess downstairs. Upon mentioning the dog, he received a hard look from Dib and before the Irken knew it, a promise had been extracted from him to not harm any of the animals and to release them as soon as possible. Shoving Dib off the controls once they neared Earth's atmosphere, Zim overtook personal piloting mode and smoothly brought the ship down, activating the cloaking device when they were low enough to be seen.

Landing in Dib's backyard, Zim opened the windshield and Dib hopped out. The human turned around and tried to cover up his wince of pain, but Zim caught it and fished around in his pocket.

"Catch." The Irken warned, and Dib reached up and caught the bottle of pain pills Zim tossed at him.

Turning the bottle over and inspecting it, Dib stuffed it in his own pocket. "Thanks, Zim. For everything." He said sincerely, still grinning from his unexpected trip into outer space.

Zim waved a hand dismissively. "Mention this not, filthy human. For I, _Zim_, expect to be moderately impressed with your Irken speaking skills TOMORROW. Do not disappoint me, friend worm." With that the alien waved a brief goodbye and took off again into the starry night sky, leaving Dib staring up after him.

"Heh, "friend worm"? Man he's got issues. And I'm going to make him eat those words at lunch!" Dib declared to himself, darting into his house to brush up on Irken.

A couple miles away in an oddly colored house a robot celebrated its victory in Checkers over Big-head Dib with a pig tea party, and the resident alien landed his craft in the roof and stepped out.

"We'll see, Dib. We shall see." Zim said with a smile as the roof closed above him, stars and moon glowing endlessly into the night.

* * *

Ok, its done! C: I hope everybody liked it. I wasn't really sure where or how to end it, so I hope the ending isn't too badly hobbled in there. And now, some shoutouts to some of the AMAZING reviewers I've had the pleasure of being reviewed by:

HyperSpooches58: As with ADFT, you're an excellent reviewer who is full of _amazing goo_. Thanks for your support, HyperSpooches :D Ashspark: Same as on ADFT, you're a faithful repeat reviewer and reading your reviews makes me happy c: Tinowenn: A loyal fan indeed, comrade! *salutes* You review almost every chapter every time, and that means a _lot_ :D I love seeing your little pensive Zim icon pop up and reading what you have to say about my chapters :) SlavetoMyself55: Another penname I recognize each time you review! :D Thanks for your continued attention :3 Kazehana23: At one point you said you liked the story even though you had no idea where it was going. That's reassuring to hear, because I had no damn clue either xD Thanks! Alicia: Thanks for giving me upbeat comments in all of your reviews! The pick-me-ups are great :) InsomniaticFrenchToast: Your review about the Irken fist to the face made me laugh xD Thanks for your always funny and encouraging reviews :D BizarroVeR: I agree completely about the random chaos. If I had a dollar for every fanfic on this site that is just a Gir crackfic or something similar, I'd have...an _awful_ lot of dollars. Thanks for your detailed opinion! :3 Lostseason: You followed my other story, ADFT, as well, and I enjoy hearing from you when you do chime in every now and then. Gracias :D ImmolationPiggieOfDoom: Oh, stop it you~ *bushes and waves away* xD I'm sure it could be improved in some areas, but for a story with _literally no plot pre-planned_, I think I did alright. Your lengthy review was mucho appreciated, and I hope you'll point out anything else you notice on this or any of my other fics should you choose to read them :) Thanks oodles! SongAlchemist11: My gosh you sound excited xD I'm glad you like the story so much, and I hope the ending pleases you c: And as for Zadr...hm. Maybe someday in the near future. Stay tuned ;)

And all the others who pitched in: Kurakun1019, cheesybeans, coco, and _all_ the guest reviewers! You guys rock :)

Aaaaand it looks like I got everyone :) I'm glad people have enjoyed reading this as much as I have writing it, and if you guys liked this one, check my author page on occasion or put me on alert- I'm far from done writing, and I'm going to love seeing those familiar faces from this story and ADFT reviewing my new ones too. :D THANK YOU SO MUCH EVERYBODY! :D


End file.
